The One With The Indecent Proposal
by Jana
Summary: Very loosely based on the movie 'Indecent Proposal', but with an interesting twist! - NOW COMPLETE!
1. 1

**_The One With The Indecent Proposal_**

By: Jana~

Chapter One

*****

--She stared back at her reflection, the question of how her life had come to this foremost on her mind.

Monica had been dating Pete Becker for almost a year - a relationship that had a rocky start to begin with, her feelings for him more of friendship than romantic. It took an impromptu kiss from him to stir something within her.

Those feelings, however, had started to fizzle as of late. Once an attentive man, his focus soon moved to his struggling computer company, leaving Monica all but ignored.

Still, she stayed with him, comfortable and familiar taking precedence over the unknown.

--"I know you hate these things," Pete told Monica, bringing her out of her reverie. "We won't stay long," he promised. "I just can't pass on the opportunity to make important contacts."

She sighed, clasping her expensive necklace in place; a sign of the wealth this man once had. "That's fine."

Fingering the gold chain, her mind wandering again as she stared absently into the mirror, her boyfriend mumbling about some tie he couldn't find.

No, this was not how she pictured life at all.

*****

--Snooty people with fake laughs and mindless dribble bored her to near tears. She stood with her scotch on the rocks with a twist, off by herself to hopefully avoid some of the pointless small talk and false smiles. Pete was great at 'putting on the face', but it was something she simply wasn't good at.

"Bored?"

Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice, ready to put on her best smile and be cordial, as was expected, but all she could do was stare back.

His eyes were so blue, his smile so warm and genuine, she was caught off guard.

She found herself stammering, how to answer his simple question, or to even form words far from her mind. He chuckled slightly.

"Yeah, these things can render you speechless," he said in response to her silence. "I sometimes wonder if these types don't throw these parties just to see if they can outdo each other in a battle of misused and exaggeratedly pronounced 6-syllable words."

She chuckled, and he smiled at her response. "I'm Chandler."

Her smile faltered slightly. "Monica."

"A pleasure," he said, taking her hand, turning it, and kissing the knuckles.

She could've sworn she felt herself blush. "I'm here with Pete Becker," she heard herself blurt out, embarrassed that she had a second later.

"I know," he smiled. "But clearly his attentions are elsewhere," he added, gesturing to a group of men, Pete included, who were talking and laughing amongst themselves. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I kept you company for a while."

She turned away from Pete, and the man in front of her. "I'm sorry," she gushed. "Please excuse me."

His words had hit just a little too close to home, and she had to leave his presence to avoid looking foolish, the tears welling already as she rushed into the bathroom.

Was it obvious to everyone? Did everyone know their relationship had become an act, put on for others to believe? But they didn't. They didn't believe, and Monica felt more the fool because of it.

She stayed on his arm, acting as if all was well, but it was far from it, and now she knew. Everyone knew.

Staring at her reflection, at her tear stained face, her expression seemed sadder than before. There was no point in continuing the charade. She would end it with Pete after the party.

--She entered the room, scanning to locate Pete. He was still shmoozing with people of importance, including the man that had her fleeing to the restroom minutes before. Chandler. She hadn't seen him before, at any of the parties Pete insisted she attend with him. Who was he?

When he looked her way, she abruptly turned, angry with herself at getting caught staring at him. She was sure he was smiling smugly, but she didn't dare look back to confirm her suspicions. Instead, she marched over to the bar, ordering another scotch on the rocks with a twist. 

She wanted to turn and see what he was doing, but she was near certain he was watching her… she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of turning around. That would denote interest, and she didn't have an interest in him. Did she?

"He comes from new money," a snooty older woman murmured softly to the woman she was with as they approached the bar. "A lottery winner," she added with disgust.

"How was he even invited?" the second woman asked, equally disgusted.

"Anymore, it doesn't matter where the money comes from, so long as you have some," the first woman replied, then placed her drink order with the bartender. "And what kind of name is Chandler Bing?" she asked, snickering.

--He was a lottery winner, Monica thought to herself. That was why she hadn't seen him before. The older people, who had come from a long line of wealth, obviously didn't approve of him being there. They shared that in common. Most didn't care for Monica, either.

"Ladies…"

It was Chandler's voice, Monica recognized it immediately, but she remained with her back to him, noting the exaggerated scoffs coming from the old ditties as they walked away.

"I guess I'm not very popular at this event," he mused, ordering 'the same as the lady' from the bartender.

They stood in an uncomfortable silence as they both sipped their drinks… it was Chandler who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry if I upset you earlier," he apologized.

"You didn't upset me," she lied, unconvincingly.

"So, you usually go running off to the bathroom in tears at parties?"

With an indignant exhale of air, she turned on her heel and stepped away from the bar. "If you'll excuse me," she grumbled through gritted teeth.

"And if I won't?" he asked, his smile growing wider.

There was a very noticeable pause in the pace of her departure, but she quickly recovered, heading straight for Pete. In a show that was obviously put on for the man she was angered by, Monica linked her arm with her boyfriend's, smiling and hanging on his every word like a doting girlfriend.

For the most part, Pete acted as if she wasn't even there, his attention clearly on kissing the asses of the wealthy potential backers of his declining company.

Chandler seemed to take some kind of perverse pleasure in the scene that was playing out, his smug smile almost a constant on his face. It only served to irritate Monica further, and she was prepared to drop all pretenses and tell the man exactly what she thought of him, when he started his approach.

"What do **you want?" she barked, her anger peaked.**

The slight glance in her direction was almost an ignore, it was so slight. Extending his hand, Chandler shook with Pete before leaning in, speaking in almost a whisper.

"I've given your pitch some thought, and I'm willing to discuss backing your company."

***

Pete excused himself, directing Chandler to where they could talk in private. Monica followed along, under the guise that she wasn't ready to give up Pete's companionship. In actuality, she was dying to be there, to hear what this **Chandler had to say.**

Why was she so perplexed by this man?

--"That all sounds fine," Chandler said, nodding along with Pete's proposal, "And I'm prepared to give you one million dollars in support…"

"Oh my God. Sir, you have no idea-"

"**But**," Chandler interrupted Pete's ecstatic ramblings, "I have a provision."

"Ok, sure," Pete agreed, "What is your proposal?"

Chandler glanced at Monica, who watched with concerned curiosity as the words that would change her life were uttered.

"I will give you the one million dollars, no strings attached," Chandler stated with forced confidence, "If I can have one night… twenty-four hours… with Monica."

…**TO BE CONTINUED**…

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	2. 2

**_The One With The Indecent Proposal_**

By: Jana~

Chapter Two

*****

--It took a moment for his words to sink in, astonishment taking over where mere curiosity left off. "What?" Monica exclaimed, her voice shrill, her eyes wide. "**What?! My ****God, are you **insane**?!"**

Chandler stared back at her, silently trying to convey something that she wasn't even attempting to understand.

"What do you think I am," she shouted, "A **prostitute**?!"

Taken aback by her reaction, Chandler shook his head. "Of course not," he replied sincerely.

"Please, Mon, just calm down," Pete requested, seeing that partygoers were starting to become interested in the scene she was creating.

"Calm down?!" she barked. "Calm down?! How can you even **say** that?!" A look of horror suddenly crossed her face, and she gasped, "You're considering taking him up on this, aren't you? What are you, my **pimp?!"**

"It wouldn't be like that," Chandler tried to explain, but she cut him off.

"You're both sick!" she announced, pointing at both of them. "**Sick!"**

Storming off, she was initially looking to leave, but abandoned that idea near instantly. Not only did she live with Pete, and would have to see him again anyway, but he was also her ride. Instead, she settled for getting another drink at the bar.

"I swear," Chandler promised Pete, "I'm not looking to have sex with your girlfriend. My intentions are strictly honorable."

Pete's gaze moved to Monica's retreating form before making eye contact with Chandler. "Right, ok," he muttered dismissively, "But, if she says no, maybe there's something else we can work out?" he asked, almost begging. "I could arrange for some, **companionship…"**

Chandler didn't know what he was more, grateful that the man didn't seem to care about his girlfriend, or appalled. He shook his head, looking down at his feet as he scuffed his expensive shoe across the marble.

"Ok, ok," Pete said anxiously, "Let me go talk to her, ok? Just- don't go anywhere."

Chandler only nodded, watching as he walked away after Monica.

--Monica couldn't remember a time when she had been so angry. This man had some nerve! And then for Pete to stand there, **considering** the offer! Did he stand up for her? Defend her honor? Of course he didn't! Money was more important. Money was always more important.

"I'll have a scotch on the rocks with a twist," she told the barkeep, "In a tall glass. And leave the bottle," she added.

"The solution isn't at the bottom of a liquor bottle," he told her, receiving a glare in reply. "Ok," he conceded, "I'm not your father."

"Monica, please," Pete pleaded, nearing her, "Try to be reasonable."

"Oh," she scoffed, "**I'm** being unreasonable?! **I'm being unreasonable?!"**

"This could save my company!" he exclaimed, desperate to change her mind. "This could change our lives!"

"Your life," she corrected, averting her eyes to the drink that was placed in front of her.

He sighed, pausing before asking the question he already knew the answer to. "What are you saying?"

Solemnly, she shook her head. "You know what I'm saying, Pete."

Nodding, he hung his head for a moment before looking back up at her. "Where will you go?"

"Back to my old apartment in the village. I'm sure Rachel would take me back, no problem."

"I accept this," he told her, as if granting her permission to break up with him. "I know you've been unhappy for a while now. But, please, Mon," he asked again, "Please do this for me."

She looked up at him, contempt in her eyes. "Why should I?"

"He doesn't want to have sex with you," he said, leaving her question unanswered. "He said his intentions were completely honorable."

"Oh, sure," she laughed bitterly, "We don't know this guy from Adam, but let's trust his word on that!"

"Mon," he whined, uncharacteristically, "He won't do this any other way. It's twenty-four hours with you, or no deal."

She looked away, angry. "That's **not** my problem."

"If you **ever loved me," he tried to persuade her, "You would do this for me." The only response he received was an eye roll and an exaggerated sigh. "At least talk to the guy before saying no," he beseeched. "I'll even give you some of the money," he added, sounding pathetic and powerless.**

"I don't want any money," she groaned, shaking her head. "I'll talk to the guy," she relented, "But I make **no** promises!"

He sighed, visibly relieved. "Thank you, Mon! Thank you! Thank you **so much!"**

"Save it," she snipped, putting her hand up to stop him. "Go get him before I lose my buzz!"

--Pete approached with a slight smile on his face and a stride that indicated good news, causing Chandler to stand straighter, hopeful.

"She said she was willing to talk with you," Pete explained, "But she hasn't made her decision yet."

"Well, that's fair," Chandler replied. "I mean, she doesn't know me from Adam." The brief grin Pete wore caught his attention. "What?"

Shaking his head, Pete avoided explaining what brought the expression to his face. "She's at the bar."

--The idea had seemed like a good one when his brain cooked it up, but now he almost wished he could just get out of it. She was way out of his league, and he just knew he would have no chance at all with her under normal circumstances. That's when it dawned on him, give her something she couldn't say no to.

Figuring the money would far outweigh the negative of the situation, it didn't occur to him that Monica would freak out, calling him sick, thinking he was a pervert. He didn't think she would become angry with him.

But then Monica agreed to talk with him. That gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he would get a shot at spending time with her.

--Pouring herself another drink, Monica sat half sloshed, awaiting the man that had managed to create a whirlwind of chaos and scuttlebutt in the shortest amount of time in history.

"He's not worth it, you know," that bartender told her, removing the lime wedge she had carelessly tossed aside.

"Who?" Monica asked, struggling to stand. "And why don't you have barstools?"

"I'm not in charge of the barstools," he answered, "And I was referring to Mr. Becker."

"He's not the reason I'm drinking," she admitted, the liquor loosening her tongue.

"Then, may I ask, why are you drinking?"

"You know the Chandeleer guy? The lottery winner?" she asked, slurring her words.

"Um, it's Chandler, actually."

She spun around at the sound of his voice, losing her balance, falling into him to catch herself.

"Ah, crap!" she exclaimed, pushing away from him, leaning back against the bar to steady herself.

"Are you ok?" Chandler asked, holding his hands out in case she needed the support.

"I'm fine," she insisted, distant. "Just got a little dizzy, spinning around that fast."

"And I'm sure all the alcohol didn't help matters any," Chandler added, tapping the side of the half-empty scotch bottle. "Getting tanked, are we?"

"Not yet," she muttered, holding up her glass. "On my way though."

He sighed. "If it helps at all, I didn't mean to upset you."

Staring into her drink for a moment, she glanced his way, "Nope, that doesn't help."

"Is there **any** way you can just see this as flattering?" he asked, gesturing to the bartender that he wanted the same as Monica, only smaller.

"Flattering?!" she screeched. "Ok, **you** tell me, how in the name of God am I supposed to see this as **anything but **degrading**?"**

His hands held in surrender, he attempted to calm her so he could explain. "Ok, but, how often has this happened to you?"

"I can safely say, **never**!"

"Don't you see? I am **so** taken with you, I'm willing to spend one million dollars, just to have one day's time with you!"

She wasn't sure what to say to that. She was so busy being offended, she hadn't thought of it like that. He could tell his words reached her.

"I didn't mean to insult you," he maintained, "I was just hoping to get to know you better."

"Then, why not just ask me out on a date or something?" she asked, still holding on to a shred of her anger.

"Well, cause you have a boyfriend," he explained. "And because I didn't think you would want to go out with me, the way you reacted earlier."

"So you thought it would be better to **buy** me?"

"I wasn't trying to buy you," he defended himself. "If I wanted to **buy you, I woulda offered **you** the million dollars! I was trying to appease your boyfriend!"**

"Yeah, well," she sighed, tipping her drink to her lips, "He's not my boyfriend anymore."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his gaze finding the floor, unsure of how to respond. "What?"

"We broke up tonight," she muttered, downing the rest of her scotch in one fast gulp.

"Oh," he shifted uncomfortably, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. **I was the one who broke up with ****him." She grabbed the bottle to pour herself another drink. "It was time."**

Reaching across, he took the liquor bottle from her, setting it on the far end of the bar.

"So, if you broke up with him," he asked, "Why did you agree to talk with me about my proposal?"

She rolled her eyes, pushing her glass away. "He begged me to, that's why."

"So," he muttered, defeated, "There's no way you'll do this then, huh?"

"I don't know," she answered, her eyes meeting his, an almost mischievous twinkle in them. "What's in it for me?"

…**TO BE CONTINUED**…

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	3. 3

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Three

*****

--It was probably the alcohol talking, seeing as how she was near three sheets to the wind, but she was opening the door for negotiations, once again giving him hope.

"Well," he asked, offering a slight smile, "I don't know. What do you want?"

"You wanna know what I want?" she asked sharply, poking him in the chest. "Do you?" He simply nodded. "I want my own restaurant, that's what I want."

"Your own restaurant?" he repeated, confused. "Are you a business major or something?"

"No," she scoffed, "I'm a chef! At least, I used to be."

"You're not anymore?"

She shook her head. "When I moved in with Pete, I quit. It wasn't like I needed the money," she defended her actions, if only to herself. "Besides, the staff hated me anyway."

He couldn't imagine anyone hating this woman. "Why did they hate you?"

"The chef I replaced was related to most of the kitchen staff and waiters," she explained. "They wanted me gone. They even wrote 'quit bitch' on my chefs hat and baked my jacket!"

"Sounds like a hostile work environment."

"It was. But, it was something I had worked for all my life. To be head chef at a renowned restaurant… that was the dream."

"So, why did you quit? Why didn't you find a restaurant with employees that weren't hateful?"

She shrugged. "Pete said I didn't have to. He sorta talked me into giving it up. I miss it," she added ruefully.

"So, you want your own restaurant so you can fulfill your dream of being head chef?"

She nodded.

After a moment, pausing as if deliberating, he announced, "I can do that."

The abrupt motion of turning to look at him gave her another head rush, and she scowled as she tried to concentrate on him. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No," he shook his head, "I'm not."

Flustered and emotional, she asked, "Why are you doing this?"

He smiled. "I don't exactly know, I just know I have never felt like this about anyone, **ever. I just want to get to know you better."**

"You would be willing to spend that kind of money, just to get to know me better?" He nodded. "I'm nothing special," she sighed, looking away.

"I think you are." His eyes seemed to dance, displaying integrity in the depths.

"How much money did you win in the lottery, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Well, after taxes, and it was less because I chose the 'cash out' option instead of yearly payments, I **saw** about eighty-nine million dollars."

"Oh my **God!"**

"I know. There's no way I can spend that kind of money in my lifetime! I've given to charities and family and friends and strangers. I'm running out of people to give it to," he laughed.

The smile was slight, but she couldn't stop it from appearing. All things considered, she liked this man. He was definitely handsome, but it went beyond that. It was deeper than physical beauty.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this," she muttered, pulling tip money for the bartender from her handbag, stuffing it in the brandy snifter that was set out for that very purpose.

"Are you- are you saying yes?" he asked, careful not to assume.

She nodded. "But I'm going to hold you to the 'no sex' thing!"

With a gesture of his hands, he offered his assurances that he would be a perfect gentleman. "You have my word."

"What are you gonna say to Pete?" she asked, kicking her shoes off to make balancing and walking easier.

"You mean, am I still going to back his company?" She nodded. "I'm still going to give him the million. After all," he reminded, "I promised it to him."

"**And you're going to buy me my own restaurant?!"**

"Yes."

She shook her head, picking up her shoes to carry as she began to move away from the bar. "I just hope I don't disappoint."

He smiled as he walked beside her. "There's no way you can."

***

--Pete, being paranoid, insisted they draw up a contract, so that all aspects were spelled out and legal, if any problems should arise.

Chandler, for the most part, didn't mind, but he sensed Monica did.

--"Will you come by for your stuff?" Pete asked, glancing over at Monica as the lawyer friend who happened to be attending the party worked on the document.

"Yeah, but not tonight," she answered, speaking in a hushed tone.

"I could just have the stuff delivered," he offered, "If you'd rather."

She glanced down at the table, picking at her badly chewed fingernails. "Sure, ok. Thanks. But wait till tomorrow. So I can talk to Rachel first."

He nodded. "Alright."

"This is the strangest contract I've ever drafted," the lawyer muttered, turning the papers so the three involved could review it. "This basically gives the details of the deal, and you will all need to read it and sign it at the bottom." He pointed to where their signatures were required, then left them to read through it while he went to get a drink.

"I'm ok with the wording of this," Pete said as he finished, pulling a gold pen from his inside pocket, ready to sign.

Monica and Chandler were slower to finish, but when they did, they both agreed to what it said and in turn, borrowed Pete's pen to sign the paper.

"So, your twenty-four hours will start now?" Pete asked cautiously.

Monica glanced at Chandler before answering him. "As soon as we leave, yeah."

"So," he said, hesitation in his voice. "This is goodbye then."

Nodding, she threw Chandler a look that said she wanted a minute alone.

"I have a few phone calls to make," Chandler said as he removed his cell phone from his pocket. "If you'll excuse me."

They both nodded with an air of gratitude, waiting for him to be a few feet away before saying their goodbyes.

--Chandler glanced back as Monica and Pete embraced, averting his eyes a second later and dialing a number he knew by heart.

"Joe, it's me. Listen, I'll explain later, but I need your help with something."

--"Thanks for doing this," Pete muttered, obviously bad at being humble. "I really appreciate it."

"I don't want your thanks," she told him, her demeanor indifferent.

He nodded, mistaking her attitude for anger. "Are you sure you don't want any money?"

She shook her head. "I don't want any of your money."

"Mon," he sighed, "Please, let me give you something for doing this for me."

"I didn't just do this for you," she admitted, her eyes refusing to meet his.

"What are you saying?"

With an exasperated sigh, she dared to stare him straight on. "You know what I'm saying."

"You made a deal with him?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I did," she replied with confidence. "What, you're the only person who can make deals?"

"What deal did you make? What are you getting?"

"That's none of your concern," she returned firmly.

"But, don't you want to draw up a contract or something?"

"No," she shook her head. "I trust him. If I didn't, I wouldn't be doing this at all."

"It's your decision," he whispered, spotting Chandler on the approach. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, Mon."

She nodded. "Ditto."

Chandler cleared his throat, gaining Monica's attention. "We ready?"

She stared at Pete for another moment, then turned to the virtual stranger she was about to go home with. "Yes. As ready as I'll ever be."

"Bye, Mon," Pete said with a wave, an obvious sadness to his tone.

Hesitating in her departure, Monica nodded. "Bye, Pete," she whispered, refusing to cry, knowing if she looked back, she would.

"My limo is right outside," Chandler told her softly, touching the small of her back slightly, briefly, showing support for what was obviously an emotional moment.

"Fine." She acknowledged him with a quiet voice and sad eyes.

--"Please tell me this isn't because of me," he begged, gesturing for the chauffeur to hold when he moved to open the door, turning Monica to face him.

She offered a small smile of reassurance. "This isn't because of you," she told him sincerely. "This has been coming for a long time now. Before you even made your little proposal, I had planned to break up with him tonight, after this party."

"I'm sorry you're so sad."

The bluest eyes she'd ever seen looked back at her, his expression genuine. She didn't doubt his sincerity for a moment.

"Thank you, but I'll be fine."

Chandler smiled, relieved, then made a motion for the chauffeur to continue with his duties and open the door for them, which he did with haste. After they were in the limousine, the driver shut the door, then climbed into the driver's seat, awaiting instructions.

"Home, James," Chandler instructed, smiling to himself. "I've always wanted to do that," he whispered to Monica, showing her that the driver's name was indeed James, his ID badge within view. She laughed, putting the evening on a good track for events to come.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

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	4. 4

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Four

****

--They fell into an uncomfortable silence as the limousine droned down the road, both unsure of what to say, neither ever having been in a situation like it before.

Chandler could see the driver watching them through the rearview mirror, his eyes periodically leaving the road to take in the reason for the odd atmosphere that permeated the vehicle. Ill at ease with the intrusion, Chandler hit a button, raising the dark tinted glass that separated driver from passengers.

He smiled at Monica when she looked his way, with an expression that seemed to question his actions.

"He was kinda giving me the creeps," he explained, smiling.

There was only a slight nod given before she returned her attention to the passing scenery out the window.

It was obvious that there was a strain between them, and Chandler sighed as he tried to determine how to ease into some sort of relaxed conversation with her. "Penny for your thoughts," he offered; the old saying seemed fitting under the circumstances.

Monica turned away from the window and faced him. "A penny?" she asked, a slight smirk on her face. "With all your millions, and I only get a penny for my thoughts? I think you've underestimated the value of what goes through my mind," she added.

"Ok…" He smiled as he rephrased the request. "A hundred dollars for your thoughts."

"That's a little better," she said with a grin, but the happier expression soon faded, leaving behind a melancholy one. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Understandably," he offered sympathetically. "Care to talk about it? I've been told I'm a pretty good listener."

"I'm not sorry I broke up with Pete," she confided, "But I am feeling a little down, ya'know? I mean, we were together a long time. It's always sad when a long-term relationship ends. Right?"

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"And now I have the next 24 hours to deal with…"

"I'll try not to be too insufferable," he muttered dejectedly.

"I didn't mean it like that," she assured him. "You seem like a very nice person, and believe me, if I didn't think you were trustworthy, I wouldn't be here right now. It's just- I don't know what you're expecting from all this. I don't understand why you would want to spend all this money, just for… For what?"

"To be honest with you, I don't know **what** I was thinking. **And**," he added quickly, "I don't mean that like it sounds. It's just- I saw you standing there…" After trailing off he sighed, starting again. "I was set to leave the party. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go to it in the first place, but a friend talked me into it. It was **the** most boring party I've ever been to! They shouldn't be allowed to call those 'parties'! They should call them 'boredom gatherings' or something!" Monica laughed, and it brought a smile to his face.

"Anyway," he continued, "I was just getting ready to leave, and that's when I saw you. I don't know what I was thinking, when I came up with the proposal to Pete, I just knew I didn't want to leave without you."

"You have no idea how much pressure this is for me," she stated nervously. "You go and put me on some pedestal, after seeing me across a crowded room; you spend **all this money so that I will spend time with you, and I'm not even sure what you want from me exactly."**

Shaking his head, he held up his hands to reassure her. "There is no pressure, Monica. I don't have you on a pedestal, and I'm not expecting anything from you, ok? We're just gonna spend some time together. Talking, eating, maybe we'll catch a movie or something, I don't know. I just wasn't ready to walk away without knowing you a little better. But there's no pressure, ok? None. You just be yourself, and at the end of 24 hours, you will have your dream, and I will have spent an amazing day with an incredible woman."

"And over one million dollars," she added.

"That doesn't bother me," he told her. "It would be like a person with an average income spending just over a thousand dollars on something they want. It's a little steep, but not off the charts."

She chuckled. "I have a feeling, nothing about you is average."

"Hey," he defended with a smile, "I used to be average. Another John Smith, Office Drone. Working at a dead end job, no respect, tiny apartment. And all that was fine. The last thing I expected was to win the lottery!"

"Then, why did you play?"

"My friends talked me into it."

"Your friends seem to do that a lot."

"Yeah, well, when you meet them, you'll see why. It's hard not to get caught up in their enthusiasm. It's contagious. They wanted to get lottery tickets, and they convinced me to tag along. As they were buying theirs, they pestered me to get one too. So, I did."

"Just one?"

"Yep. One ticket. Quick pick. **Boom**, eighty-nine million take home."

"What did your friends say?"

"They were happy for me! And believe me, they've benefited from my winning. They've been my best friends for years. We've seen each other through some tough times. There's no way I **wouldn't** have shared the wealth."

"You're a good friend. Not everyone would do that."

"**They** would have. If either of them had won it instead."

"They sound like good people."

"They are," he said with a nod. "The best." He smiled thoughtfully, but it dropped suddenly. "Oh! This is me!" he told her, pointing out the window as the chauffeur pulled into the drive.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as the estate came into view. It looked almost like a castle, but a bit more modern. Maybe not the size of Camelot, but large. Surrounding it was a near-forest of trees, and a waterfall that let out into a small stream, winding down and under a stone bridge.

"You live **here?" she asked, astonished. "You ****live here?!"**

He chuckled. "Yeah, it's a bit much. It was an impulse item, after I first got the check."

"Hell of an impulse item!"

"Yeah. My friends were all, 'C'mon! Buy a mansion! It'll be cool!' So, I did."

"If your friends told you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?"

"I have," he told her, laughing. "We had those parachute glider things on, though."

"You went cliff diving?" she asked, laughing with him.

He nodded, pointing at the top of the waterfall. "From up there. Don't ask how we got up there," he added. "It's a **long** story."

"Ah. Well, that waterfall is amazing."

"Yeah, pain in the butt to maintain though, believe me."

The driver pulled to a stop, jumping out to open the door for his passengers.

"Thanks, James," Chandler said as he handed the man an insanely large tip. "I might need you again tomorrow," he added. "If you're free."

"Yes, Sir!" he replied enthusiastically. "When you call just ask for me by name!"

"Will do," Chandler returned with a smile. He loved it when his large tips were so gratefully received. "You want the tour?" he asked Monica, stepping away from the car and toward the front door.

"Sure. How many bedrooms does this place have?"

"Eight, I think."

"You don't know?"

He shrugged, "I didn't buy it for the bedrooms."

"What did you buy it for?"

He smiled. "You'll see."

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please, leave a review! I need them, like birds need seed and dogs need to go potty in the morning, or they leave their mess on the carpet, right in front of your bathroom door, so you'll have to clean it before you can even get in to use the potty, leaving a stink on the carpet that won't come up no matter how many times you scrub it.

That reminds me, I need to go to the pet store and get birdseed and carpet cleaner with pet odor destroyer.

Anyway, please review! Thanks, and MTLBYAKY


	5. 5

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Five

*****

--They stepped inside, immediately greeted by a large elegant foyer, with incredible marble floors, a statue of some half-naked woman, and two winding staircases that led to the same landing upstairs. Tapestries adorned the walls, and fresh flowers filled the large vases strategically placed throughout.

"Good Lord, Chandler! Do you live here alone?"

"Some of the time," he answered. "My friends stay over a lot, but they usually just stay in the guesthouse that's on the property."

"You have a second house on the property?"

Laughing, he shrugged, "Yeah, and servant quarters, but those aren't being used. I have a couple gals come in once a week, and a gardener-slash pool guy that comes twice per week, but they don't live on site."

She shook her head in astonishment. "One could get lost in here."

"I have," he chuckled with embarrassment. "When I first moved in. But I know my way around now, no problem. So," he asked, "Ready for the grand tour?"

She smiled. "Lead on."

They started upstairs, where eight grand bedrooms and no less than four bathrooms were located. The rooms were huge, with four-poster beds and a fireplace in each one. Three of the rooms had attached bathrooms, the other bathroom was only accessible from the large corridor, which seemed to be guarded by an empty suit of armor.

Tapping the hollow metal chest plate with her knuckle, she asked, "Really?"

With a sheepish smile, he started to explain, "My friend Joey-"

"Talked you into it," she interrupted, finishing the sentence for him. "Of course he did," she said with a smirk. "How old is Joey, anyway?"

"Um, thirty-two," he answered. "Why?"

"The way you talk about him," she shrugged, "I would've guessed he was much younger."

"Yeah, he's like a little kid at times," he agreed, then quickly changed the subject. "You're a chef," he announced, "I bet you'll really appreciate the kitchen."

--The kitchen was amazing, and larger than any kitchen Monica had ever seen before.

"They say you could cook a meal for over one-hundred guests in here," he said as she looked around in awe, "But I've never tested the theory."

"Is **this why you bought the place?" she asked, "Cause, it would sure be one of the deciding factors for me!"**

"Actually, no," he told her. "I'm saving the best for last."

"What could be better than **this kitchen**?"

"You'll see," he said with a smile, then gestured towards a door at the other end of the kitchen. "Through that door is the formal diningroom. Big room, big table, lots of chairs," he summarized. "You know, typical diningroom. And this way," he added as he steered her towards another door, "Is my game room."

The room was huge, and was filled with arcade-style games of all sorts, plus a pool table, air-hockey table, foosball table, and a ping-pong table.

"It's like Disneyland, without the rides!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she took it all in.

"Well, we have a roller-rink," he offered, "If that helps."

"A roller-rink?!" Her tone mirrored her expression of utter amazement.

"Well, I think it used to be a ballroom," he explained, "But when am I **ever going to have one of **those**, right?"**

"You use a ballroom as a roller-rink?!" she asked incredulously.

"Yep. Or sometimes we just glide across in our stocking feet," he added with a laugh.

"So, winning that money was like a way for you and your friends to revert back to childhood."

He wasn't sure whether that was meant as an insult or not. "Well, what's the point of having all that money, if you don't have fun with it? Put it in the bank and watch it sit there? Where's the fun in that?"

"Good point," she conceded, meandering towards the foosball table. She patted it a few times, smiling over at him. "You any good?"

"Not as good as Joey," he grinned back, "But I can hold my own."

"Maybe we can play later," she suggested. "You know, after the grand tour."

"**You any good?" he asked.**

"I've been known to kick a few butts," she replied confidently.

"Hmm, a challenge, eh? I accept."

She smiled as she gave a nod. "Ok, so, what exactly **is** the feature of this castle of yours, that convinced you to buy it?"

"Ah, the piece de resistance," he announced with just a hint of a French accent. "Oui, oui. Come this way," he directed as he gestured for her to follow him.

All the way to the far corner of the game room, he stopped and pushed, what looked like ornate accents on the sconce. When he did, the ordinary looking wall inched open, like a door on a hinge, and he pushed it to reveal a dark corridor, lit with authentic looking torches.

"Not real flame," he said as he grabbed one off the wall, to help light their way. "Rechargeable battery-operated." He signaled for her to follow him, and reluctantly, as the wall automatically closed behind them, she did.

Up till that point, he'd given her no reason not to trust him, but as they walked further and further down the long passageway, she started getting a bad feeling.

"Ya'know," she said nervously, "I'm not sure I want to see the piece de resistance **this badly."**

He laughed. "It's just a few feet further," he assured her. "The rest of the corridor leads to the guest house on the property."

Within a minute, they reached a door; all wood with metal rings for handles, and as large as it was intimidating. Pulling the ring, the door clicked open and, with only a slight amount of effort, he pushed it to gain entry.

She stepped in after him, her eyes growing wide at what she saw before her.

The room had more light than the corridor they had left, but that was of zero comfort.

Shackles hung from the stone walls, and a large human-sized cage with a very menacing medieval-style padlock hanging from it was built-in, inside a cave of sorts.

Her blood instantly ran cold.

She stammered her words, asking, "Is that- Is **this**, a… dungeon?"

Chandler turned around, with a smile on his face that, with the shadows casting across him, looked almost ominous.

Before he could answer, another voice broke in.

"Hey, Chandler! This must be the woman you told me about."

Monica spun around, to be met by a man with dark hair and dark eyes, staring back at her as he entered the room.

The room started spinning as darkness enveloped her.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review! I **need** them! Like we need air to breathe, and like I need Matthew Perry to come to my home, take me in his arms, and smother me in kisses as he…

Oh, wait, that might not be a **need** so much as a **want**.

Anyway, please review! Thanks, and MTLBYAKY

P.S. – MTLBYAKY = May The Lord Bless You And Keep You


	6. 6

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Six

******

--The voices sounded far away as her head started to clear, and she fought to understand what was being said when she realized the conversation was about her.

"I'm telling you, she seemed fine a few minutes ago."

"Well, maybe she's a delayed drunk."

"There's no such thing, Joe. And she stopped drinking, like, over an hour ago at least."

"Maybe she's sick. Or maybe she stood up too fast."

"She hasn't been sitting since we left the limo."

"What else is there, then?"

The groan that escaped her was involuntary, and the two men stopped talking instantly at the sound.

"She's waking up."

Slowly, she opened her eyes, seeing Chandler kneeling beside her, the other man standing about a foot or so away. They both looked concerned.

"Are you alright?" Chandler asked, helping her into a sitting position.

"I think so," she answered, groggy.

"What happened?" the other man asked, and Chandler nodded along.

"I'm not sure," she half-lied. "Just, felt dizzy, all of the sudden. Maybe it was from spinning around so quickly."

"Can you stand?" Chandler asked. "We can help you to the livingroom, so you can rest on the couch."

She nodded, allowing them to help her up. "Why do you have a dungeon?" she asked, surprised at herself for braving the question.

"We think the original owner built it, to do low-budget porno movies," Chandler answered. "Pretty creepy, eh?"

She scoffed, as if that was an understatement. "Yeah."

"This is Joey, by the way," Chandler said, introducing his friend. "Joey, this is Monica."

"A pleasure," Joey cordially replied as he slipped under her arm, helping to support her while she walked, with Chandler doing the same on her right side.

***

--They helped her to the couch, but she felt odd about accepting their assistance. She actually felt fine, and not in need of the aid they were giving her. They easily believed her when she said the fast spinning movement caused her to become dizzy and faint, but in actuality, that wasn't the reason she passed out.

It was fear that created the reaction she'd had, because she saw the dungeon. Because the look that briefly crossed Chandler's face, was almost villainous. Because a man she didn't know startled her at just the wrong moment. Now she was feeling embarrassed over her response, though she was still leery of the two men and the situation she was currently in.

"I'm gonna go get her a glass of water," Joey told Chandler after they helped her to the sofa. 

Chandler gave an upnod, "Thanks, Joe." He faced Monica, offering her a small smile, "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she insisted. "But, if I could maybe use your phone?" she asked. "I should really call my friend Rachel and let her know I'm moving back in with her, so she'll be expecting me, and my stuff from Pete."

"Oh, sure. Of course," Chandler said as he turned to snatch the phone from its base. "I'll just go and get out of this monkey suit," he added, gesturing to his tux, "And give you some privacy."

With a smile, she thanked him, waiting for him to leave the room before dialing the number.

"Hey, Rachel, it's Monica."

"Hey, Monica! What's up?"

"Oh, man, it's been an eventful day, let me tell you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Monica returned with a sigh. "First off, Pete and I broke up."

Rachel gasped, asking, "Why? I thought you guys were happy together!"

"We haven't been happy for a while now. We were just going through the motions."

"Aw, Mon, I'm sorry."

"It's ok," Monica assured her before asking, "So, would it be ok if I was your roommate again?"

"Absolutely!" Rachel exclaimed. "You don't even have to ask! It was your apartment first!"

"Thanks, Rach. Listen," Monica said, her voice dropping, her tone turning serious, "I can't really go into it now, but, I went home with a guy from the party thing Pete dragged me to."

"So soon after Pete?" Rachel asked, surprised by her friend's actions.

"It's not like that," Monica explained. "I can't go into detail now, but I'll fill you in tomorrow, ok? Look, here's the thing, when I first agreed to go home with him, I trusted him, but now, I'm a little weirded out."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Well, nothing, exactly, but, he was giving me the tour of his place, and he takes me down this dark corridor, and through some huge ancient wood door, and inside, was a…" she looked behind her to be sure Chandler wasn't back yet from changing, "**Dungeon," she whispered sharply.**

"What?!" Rachel whispered back. "A **dungeon**?!"

"Rachel," Monica whispered, "**You** don't have to whisper, **I** do."

"Right," Rachel agreed, returning her tone to normal. "What kind of dungeon is it?"

Monica looked around her again before answering. "Like a cave, dark, a large cage with a medieval looking padlock, with **shackles** hanging from the walls! It was creepy! I swear, I literally passed out!" she exclaimed in a hushed tone. "I was half expecting to be **in the cage when I came to."**

"Oh, God! Well, what **did** happen when you came to?"

"Nothing. Him and his friend just helped me up and out to the couch."

"His friend?"

"Yeah. He was part of the reason I fainted. I'm standing there, seeing this dungeon, and then this **guy** just pops up out of nowhere! Freaked me out!"

"I can imagine! Mon, I think you should just get out, before something **does happen."**

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I **really can't go into it now. I'm pretty sure I just overreacted," Monica reassured her friend, "But just in case, I wanted to give you the address. If you don't hear from me by tomorrow night, send help."**

Rachel agreed, and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from her purse to jot the information down as Monica read the address from off a mailed magazine sitting nearby.

Unbeknownst to Monica, she didn't have the privacy she thought she had. Joey, when coming back from the kitchen with her glass of water, overheard almost the entire phone conversation between Monica and the woman she called Rachel.

After she hung up the phone, Joey quietly crept back into the kitchen, clicking the intercom button to signal Chandler in his room.

"Yeah?" Chandler asked through the system.

"Dude," Joey said quietly, "Meet me in the kitchen, I have something to tell you."

Chandler scowled. "What's wrong?"

Shaking his head, Joey replied with, "Just do it, k, man?"

"Ok, ok," Chandler conceded, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Quickly, he stepped into his pants, his t-shirt already on, and headed through the hidden passageway towards the kitchen.

--Chandler entered the kitchen from out of the wine cellar, startling Joey.

"You get me with that **every** time," Joey complained, his hand to his heart as he attempted to calm his breathing.

"Sorry," Chandler apologized with a hint of a smile. "So, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Dude," Joey began, "I just overheard a phone conversation that Monica had, and I think there's something you should know."

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

"Remember when you were a little kid, and your mom would drop you off at the movies with a jar of jam and a little spoon?"

No? Just me? Ok then…

Oh, and, please review! Or I'll fling jam on you with my little spoon.

What do they call those little jam spoons, anyway?

MTLBYAKY


	7. 7

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Seven

*******

--Monica looked around the large room as she drummed her hands on her thighs, waiting for Chandler to return, wondering where Joey had gone to, a feeling of anxiousness washing over her.

She wanted to believe that she had misjudged the situation, but the more she allowed her mind to mull it over, and replay the scene, the more she worried about what was to come.

Chandler appeared from out of the kitchen, with Joey by his side, which caused Monica further concern, since he was supposed to be in his room changing, and his room being in the other direction.

"Here's your glass of water," Joey said as he approached and handed her the glass. "I'm just gonna go now," he informed, then extended his hand to shake hers. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise," she returned with a forced smile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said cordially, then turned to Chandler. "Have fun, man."

Joey gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as he crossed away from him, heading for the secret tunnel that led to the guesthouse by way of the game room, leaving the two of them alone.

"So," Chandler started, "Your phone conversation go ok?"

"Yeah. Rachel said no problem to me moving back in with her."

"Well, that's good then," he muttered, sitting beside her on the couch. "So, are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm fine," she said with a short chuckle, "I'm actually embarrassed about it," she added. "So silly."

He smiled in return, but a skeptical look remained. "Sticking with the, I got dizzy spinning around too fast, story?"

"What- what do you mean?" she stammered nervously.

"Monica," he sighed, "I know the real reason you fainted. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out."

"I- I don't know what you're, um, talking about," she stuttered, feeling the need to escape growing.

"Have I given you any reason not to trust me?" he asked seriously.

She dared to make eye contact. "No."

"Have I done anything or acted in any way inappropriately?"

She shook her head, "No."

"Then why did you faint?"

"I thought you said you knew."

"I do," he informed her. "I'm asking you to tell me."

It was a strange exercise of some sort, put forth to test her, or establish trust or something. She could sense that much, and didn't feel like she could or should lie to him.

"Well, Joey startled me. I wasn't expecting him to be there at that moment."

Chandler nodded. "What else?"

"I saw the dungeon, and I had this- this horrible vision of me being locked in that cage, or- or chained to those shackles, and, I sorta got, freaked out."

Again, Chandler nodded. "I have no intention of locking you in a cage, Monica. I don't even have the key for the padlock."

"Why take me down there?" she asked. "Why would you buy this place, because it had a dungeon?"

"That's not the reason I bought the place," he told her. "We didn't get to the piece de resistance. You passed out before we got there."

"Oh…" she muttered, trailing off.

"If you still want to see it," he told her, "Then, we'll go later. That is, if you trust me."

She smiled, but didn't exactly answer.

"First," he said, brushing past the awkward moment, "I wanted to give you something." Standing, he went to a nearby closet and produced a bag, then returned to sit beside her. "We guessed at your size," he told her, "So I hope they're ok."

Monica reached into the bag, retrieving an article of clothing. A dress, soft white cotton, very casual. The price tag caused her to gasp.

"This is way too much," she complained, handing the item and the bag back to him.

"No, no," he assured her, "I want you to have them. So you're comfortable. There should also be some PJs in there."

She peeked into the bag, spotting a comfortable flannel pajama set, along with other items she didn't remove.

"Thank you," she whispered, then placed the bag by her feet.

"Are they the right size?"

She nodded, "Close enough."

"Good," he said with a smile. "Why don't you go get comfortable, then, if you want, we'll finish the tour. Ok?"

Hesitantly, she nodded. "Where should I change?"

"I'll show you to your room," he offered, then stood, extending his hand to help her up.

Calling it a guestroom just served to minimize the expectations. The room was grand and large, with an attached bathroom and a beautiful stone fireplace. The bed had a four-poster canopy, with silk sheets and a million pillows, some of which were also silk, as well as velvet.

"I can't stay here," she told him, backing away from the doorway. "It's too much."

"Didn't you say you lived with Pete?" he asked rhetorically. "He didn't live in a shack, did he?"

"Well, no," she explained, "But he didn't live grandly, either. He didn't spend his money on stuff like this."

"What did he spend his money on? He obviously spent a lot, since he is struggling so bad now."

"Weird stuff," she answered. "Like, video phones for his home and office. Course, no one has those, so he bought one for all his business contacts, and for his mom and a few other family members and friends. Then, he went and did some Ultimate Fighting Champion thing."

"That kill or be killed wrestling match thing?"

"Yep. Lost miserably, every time. But he kept going, till he was almost killed one night. It finally knocked some sense into him."

He nodded, then looked back at the room. "This is the guestroom, Monica. It would be disappointed if it didn't have guests using it."

She smiled. "Ok," she relented, "I guess I can stay in here, though it'll feel weird, since it's so grand."

With just a hint of a grin, he asked, "Can you find your way back, or should I wait for you?"

A little unnerved by the idea of him standing outside while she changed, she answered with, "I can find my way back. I'll only be a few minutes," she added as she took a step inside the room.

Nodding genially, he excused himself and started down the hall towards the stairs, and back out to the livingroom.

As she changed, she wondered briefly if she was being watched somehow, like through the eyes of the paintings on the walls, or through some secret hole or something. Though Chandler, and even Joey didn't seem the type to be involved in anything bad, she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't going to walk away from this estate at the end of twenty-four hours.

The pajamas were very conservative, and very comfortable, and she opted for wearing them, along with a matching robe that was also in the bag.

A little confused at first, she eventually found her way back to Chandler, who was sitting on the couch, skimming through the very magazine she had used to give Rachel the address of the place earlier on the phone.

He stood as she entered the room, and a smile crossed his lips when he saw her attire. "Joey always goes for comfy," he said with a chuckle. "You look great in pink and purple plaid flannel," he complimented her, and she grinned in response.

"Joey picked this out?" she asked, curious.

"Yeah. I called him from the snooze-fest and asked him to pick up a few things for you."

"How did you know my size?"

"I didn't. I told him you were a bit smaller than our friend, Phoebe, and to ask her what size **she was, then go one smaller."**

She gave a nod, smiling. "Clever."

"Yeah, well, that's me," he joked, then gestured for her to link arms with him. "Ready to finish the tour now?"

"You promise I'm not about to be locked in a cage?"

"If I **were going to lock you in a cage, I wouldn't be above lying," he told her in all seriousness, "But, if it'll make you feel better, I **do** promise you, I will not do you **any** harm of ****any kind."**

She seemed leery, and he offered her a reassuring smile.

"Remember when you agreed to this," he asked her, "And you said I seemed trustworthy? Nothing has changed. I'm still **that** guy. And I'm asking you to trust me."

After first taking a deep breath, she linked her arm with his, holding eye contact with him for several intense seconds. She wondered if he could feel her trembling.

"After the tour," he said softly, "We'll have some wine. Help settle your nerves."

He could feel her trembling.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

In the next chapter, Chandler shackles her to the wall and leaves her to die.

Well, he will, if you don't review. See how mean I can be?

So, review please!

MTLBYAKY


	8. 8

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Eight

********

--Her heart rate climbed as they neared the door that led to the dungeon, and for a moment, she almost considered pulling away and telling him to never mind, but she was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Trying to believe that her first impression of him was right. Trying not to offend him by assuming the worst. 

In actuality, he had done nothing to deserve that assumption. He had been a perfect gentleman the entire time she was in his company, but after seeing something like that, like that dungeon, it was hard **not** to assume the worst.

At the door, he removed his arm from hers, then clicked and pushed open the large door, cueing her to enter. With a slight hesitation, she stepped inside, hugging herself defensively, her eyes wide and avoiding his.

With a smile that was meant to put her at ease, he moved past her, to the other side of the room, then, once again, located a secret panel that led to a new room.

"**This," he announced as he gestured towards the room, "Is why I bought the place."**

Slowly, she inched forward, peeking past the door and into the new room he'd unveiled, her jaw dropping open.

Audibly, she gasped, wandering in as she took in its grandeur.

"Oh my God," she whispered, and he smiled as he stood beside her.

"I know," he said with a sigh. "Amazing, isn't it?"

Nodding, she seemed to forget all about the room they'd just left and what it contained. "This is, unbelievable!"

The room was huge, and appeared to have something of an ancient Roman influence. Elaborate pillars and columns were throughout, with a small waterfall that emptied out into a large pool that looked almost like an ancient Roman or Egyptian bathhouse, like royalty would've used.

There were majestic paintings on the walls and ceiling, reminiscent of something from the Sistine Chapel, with several fountains, ranging in size, near the pool and on the walls.

Several fruit trees and different kinds of plants and bushes gave the feeling of being outside, even though there was no obvious exit to the outside.

It was literally breathtaking.

"Yeah," she chuckled slightly, "The kitchen definitely pales in comparison to **this."**

"Maybe later," he suggested, "We can go swimming. I mean, if you want to."

"I saw the bathing suit in the bag and wondered," she said with a smile. "Maybe we could go now," she added. "You know, swimming."

"Really?" he asked, somewhat surprised, and she nodded in response.

"If that's ok," she said softly, noting his tone.

"No, yeah, that's fine! I guess I'm just a little surprised, that you would want to. You know, cause of the whole, dungeon/passing out thing."

Smiling sheepishly, she muttered, "Yeah, sorry about acting so weird before. It's not every day you see a dungeon."

"Unless you're me," he joked. "I'm down here pretty much every day, but I know what you mean."

"I'm usually a pretty trusting person, and that has gotten me burned many times, unfortunately."

"Yeah," he said with understanding. "Been there, done that."

"Hey, I know what we should do!" she exclaimed, continuing without waiting for his response. "We should play foosball **first**, then, come down here, with maybe that bottle of wine you were talking about, and take our swim **then**. **Then, maybe relax a bit in the spa before bed. What'cha think?"**

With a wide smile, he nodded. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

***

--Without really even trying, Monica kicked Chandler's butt, easily, laughing and gloating as she did a little victory dance.

"You suck at this game!" she told him. "I didn't even break a sweat beating you!"

Shaking his head, he chuckled as he replied, "Yeah, well, I **did** break a sweat **losing** to **you, so, how about that swim now?"**

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement, "Just need to go get into my swimsuit."

"Me too," he said as he gestured towards his room. "I'll meet'cha back here, k?"

*

--The water was the perfect temperature, and Monica slid in gracefully as Chandler hurled himself into the deep end, dramatic and playful, causing her to laugh.

"You are quite the character, you know that?"

Running his hand through his hair to brush it back, he smiled. "Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

"Depends on whom you ask," she coyly replied.

"And if I were asking you?" he countered.

"I would say it was a good thing."

He swore he saw her blush, but didn't draw attention to it. They were making a definite connection. He was sure of it.

"Hey, I thought I heard voices!"

Chandler and Monica both looked up at the sound, a tall blond woman responsible for the exclamation.

"You must be Monica!" she said exuberantly, slipping off a fluffy terrycloth robe to reveal that she was wearing a bathing suit beneath it.

"Yes," Chandler answered, swimming towards Monica. "Phoebe, Monica. Monica, Phoebe."

Phoebe stepped off the edge into the water, then swam over to shake her hand. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Monica scowled. "Really?" she asked. "From who?"

"Joey. He said you were really freaked out over the dungeon."

Feeling her cheeks flush, she looked down at the water as she nodded.

"Hey, ya'know, I can see where it would be weird! You don't know Chandler, he shows you this cage and shackles in a dungeon, where even if you screamed till you were hoarse, no one would **ever** hear you. It's like something out of a bad horror movie or something."

"Thank you, Pheebs!" Chandler snipped quietly, his tone urging her to cut it out.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Just trying to be helpful. You don't mind if I swim for a bit, do you?" she asked suddenly. "I wouldn't want to interrupt anything."

"No, you're more than welcome to stay," Monica told her, and Chandler begrudgingly nodded along.

"Thanks. I won't stay long. Just been a hard day, ya'know?"

"Why?" he asked his friend. "What happened?"

"Oh, it's Ursula again," she complained. "She keeps hitting me up for money! I keep telling her it's not my money, but she just won't leave it alone."

"Well, how much does she want **this** time?" he asked, but Phoebe shook her head at him.

"It's not your obligation, and she doesn't deserve any help!" she exclaimed. "She gets **herself into these predicaments!"**

With a sigh, he asked again, "How much, Pheebs?"

"She wanted $25,000, but she said she would **settle** for $12,000." Her tone carried much disdain for the woman she called sister.

"She can have it," he told her, "If it'll help get her off your case."

"Yeah, maybe, until **next** time. I told her no more. I reminded her that the **last** time you gave her money, we said that was **it**."

"And what did she say to that?"

"She just whined about how it's unfair that I get to live in the lap of luxury while she has to suffer."

He shook his head, "She's a moocher. There's usually one in every family."

"In my family, it's cousin Frannie," Monica interjected, and Chandler and Phoebe both looked in her direction. "Sorry," she apologized with a sheepish smile.

"It's alright," Chandler assured her with a smile, then turned his attention back to Phoebe. "Tell her I'll give her the $12,000, but this is **absolutely the last time."**

Again, Phoebe shook her head. "Nope. We said that last time. I won't let you give her any more money."

"You won't **let me?" he laughed, and she glared jokingly back at him.**

"You **know I could kick your ass! Don't push it, Bing!"**

He held up his hands in surrender, "Ok, ok, just don't hurt me," he whined, acting scared.

Phoebe chuckled at his antics, then gave him a hug. "I'm gonna leave you guys alone now," she informed, then moved to leave the grand pool. 

"Already?" Chandler asked. "You just got here."

"I know," she answered, "But, you know the saying. Three's a crowd."

"Dungeon aside," Phoebe informed Monica quietly as she passed her, "You couldn't find a better guy." Her expression turned serious as she whispered sternly. "**Don't hurt him."**

Monica only smiled cautiously in response, waiting for the woman to leave the pool and the room before asking Chandler, "Is she your-?"

"Girlfriend?" he finished her question. "No."

"Former?"

He shook his head. "No. She's just protective of me. Both me **and** Joey, actually. She's harmless, unless you cross her."

"I'll try not to cross her then," she replied with a smile, it widening when he returned the gesture.

He said they weren't an item, and she believed him, but Monica couldn't help but feeling that, even if Chandler **didn't**, Phoebe wanted more.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Or perhaps it's really not as deep as I've been led to think.

Am I trying much too hard?

Of course! I've been too close to see! The answer's right in front of me!

Right in front of me.

It's simple, really, very clear, like music drifting in the air.

Invisible, but everywhere.

Just because I cannot see it, doesn't mean I can't believe it!
    
    **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	9. 9

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Nine

*********

--The pool felt good, but the spa felt amazing. Muscles she didn't even know she had were being worked on and relaxed as she reclined slightly, resting her head on the concrete edge.

"More wine?" Chandler asked as he topped off his glass.

"Mmm, better not," Monica moaned contentedly. "Because of the heat of this jacuzzi, what I've already had went straight to my head."

With a nod and a smile, he filled his glass, setting the bottle down before lifting his glass and leaning back.

"So," she asked, attempting to start up a conversation, "How did you meet Joey and Phoebe?"

"Well, I met Joey when I put an ad in the paper for a roommate," he shared. "He actually wasn't my first choice, but my first choice fell through. We became best friends almost immediately."

"And Phoebe?" She found herself more interested in how he knew her, than how he knew Joey.

"Shortly after Joey moved in, we met her at this cute little coffeehouse, where she was playing guitar and singing for tips. We just, hit it off. The three of us have been close ever since."

"Like the Three Musketeers," she joked, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, but, we don't dress in tights or engage in sword play or anything."

"Yeah, right," she laughed. "I could just see the three of you, running around in metal armor, jousting or something."

He laughed along. "Well, to be honest, Joey suggested it once. Said it would be fun, but the suits were too heavy. That's when we settled for the suit in the hall, guarding the bathroom."

"I wondered what the story was behind that," she said with a smile and a shake of her head.

"So," she broached after their laughter subsided, "What's the deal with Ursula? Phoebe's sister?"

"Yeah, twin sister, actually." He shook his head, "But, like, the polar opposite in attitude and… in so many other ways as well. She's just, not a very nice person. It's a tragic story, really," he added, "But, I won't go into that."

He offered a slight smile before tipping his goblet of wine to his lips. It was obvious that he wanted to change the subject. "So, how did you meet Pete Becker?"

"I was a cook-slash-waitress at this diner. I took the job cause I needed the money, and the offers from real restaurants, to be a **real** chef just weren't presenting themselves. Anyway," she continued, "He was a customer. Came in almost every day, but I didn't know who he was. Then, one day, he leaves me a check for $10,000, as a tip!"

"Whoa! Big tip! What did he eat? A million dollars worth of cheesecake and coffee?"

She laughed, "No, actually, his usual was corned beef on rye and a cola, easy on the ice."

"So, $10,000 was **way more than fifteen percent."**

"Yeah," she said with a snort, "Just a little bit. So, **I** think he did it just cause he wanted me to have his phone number. He would flirt with me all the time, so, that's what made sense to me, but then I showed the check to my friend Rachel. She recognized his name." 

"Long story short," she said with a shrug, "I went over there to tell him I couldn't be bought, he tore up the check; we went out on our first date that night."

"So," she changed the subject, "How about you? Any past significant relationships worth sharing?"

"Only two," he replied. "Janice, who was just **so** annoying, I found myself wanting to rip my own arm off and beat myself to death with it."

Monica laughed, "Then, why did you go out with her?"

"Temporary insanity?" he offered with a dramatic shrug of his shoulders. "Honestly, I don't know **why** I dated her. I guess I figured, I couldn't do any better."

"Low self esteem, eh?"

Nodding, he revealed, "I have my parents to thank for that. They weren't exactly the best role models for how to make a relationship work."

"Divorced?"

He nodded. "When I was nine. And, lucky me, they announced their breakup during Thanksgiving dinner."

"Wow. I'm sorry," she said softly, and he shrugged at her offer of sympathy.

"Then there was Kathy," he went on. "The actress. She was in this play, with this super hot costar, and every night, and twice on Saturday, she would be rolling around with this guy on stage, simulating sex. I got insecure, and accused her of having an affair with the guy. Which of course, she denied." 

"I still don't know when it started," he admitted. "If it started before or after I accused her, but when I went over to her place to talk it out, there he was, half naked, wearing a towel that was **way** too small for him and an evil grin. Needless to say," he added bitterly, "It was over **then** for sure."

"It hurt you bad though," she suspected, "Didn't it?"

"Yeah," he muttered, downing the last of his wine. "Since winning the Lottery," he changed the subject slightly, "I haven't been able to find anyone who likes me for **me. They're all after my money."**

"Well, I'm not," she assured him, and his attention was hers in an instant.

"Are you saying," he asked with hesitation, "That you **like** me?"

With a smile he hadn't seen grace her features before, she nodded, moving closer to him. The look between them was intense, and ripe with erotic subtext as Monica leaned in, brushing her lips against his.

Stunned, breathing erratically, he asked against her lips, "Is this because of the wine?"

"I'm not drunk," she assured him, "If that's what you're asking."

"I thought, you didn't want to-?"

"I said no sex," she answered his incomplete question, her lips still hovering near his. "I didn't say anything about no kissing."

"This is true," he whispered, smiling.

Pressing his lips gently against hers, the kiss started out slow and sensual, but all too soon turned into more. Need, desire, it strained against their resolve, begging to be quenched, demanding satisfaction.

"It's too soon," Chandler whispered, panting as if he had just been running. "Pete-"

"Pete and I have been separated emotionally for a very long time," she insisted. "There's no problem there," she promised him.

He pulled away, his body shaking from the effort it took to do so. "I want you Monica, believe me," he told her honestly, "But, not like this. We've only known each other a few hours. The deal we struck is the only reason you're here with me. You **just broke up with your boyfriend. We need to go slower than this."**

She smiled. "I can respect that."

It had been a long time since she'd felt **that** wanted, **that desirable, and it felt really good. Even better, was that he seemed willing to culture a real relationship, and not just satisfy the desires that were apparent within them both.**

In spite of the earlier doubts she had, or maybe it was because of them, she found herself very attracted to the man that sat beside her. That kissed her with a passion she had never before experienced, with Pete or any other man.

***

--The air seemed sexually charged, as they stood opposite one another in the hall, in front of the guestroom, both wrapped in warm terry robes.

"This has been, an interesting day," Monica finally broke the awkward silence. "I had fun."

Chandler smiled. "I did too. If it wasn't so late, I would suggest another game of foosball or something. I'm not ready to say goodnight," he admitted.

"We have all day tomorrow," she reminded. "Remember?"

He nodded. "I remember. And speaking of, I have the most amazing day planned for us."

"Oh yeah?" she asked with a hint of a smirk. "May I ask what's on the agenda?"

He shook his head. "It's a surprise."

"I have a feeling, it will be," she returned in a jovial manner.

The smile he wore grew wider before it dropped completely from his face, his expression turning serious. "It will be a pleasant one. At least, I hope it will be."

"I'm sure it will be," she reassured him, reaching out to touch his shoulder; she could feel her breath catch as he placed his hand gently on her hip, taking a step forward.

Waiting to be sure she was accepting of a goodnight kiss, he leaned in, touching his lips softly to hers.

The kiss was brief; too much more, and he would've lost control for sure.

"Goodnight, Monica."

Speechless, she nodded, giving a small wave as she backed into her room, slowly closing the door and obscuring him from sight.

It was so unlike her, safe and cautious Monica, to be attracted to a man that still had, despite his outward appearance, an air of mystery and doubt about him, but she couldn't help herself. A smile crept across her face as she slowly shrugged off her robe, set to remove her wet swimsuit and crawl into the warm flannel pajamas that still lay where she had placed them earlier in the evening.

Suddenly, so much so that Monica only stared in shock, a piece of the bedroom wall moved, and out of the shadows stepped the blond she had met earlier that evening. She seemed startled to see her, and the two women just looked at one-another for several seconds before the blond intruder finally spoke.

"Well, this complicates things."

Her voice seemed to pull Monica from her near-trance. "What are you doing, Phoebe?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "I don't have time for this," she muttered, then produced a gun from her coat pocket. "Move!" she ordered, gesturing towards the secret passageway she had used to gain access to her room. When Monica just stood cemented in place, the gun was waved in a threatening manner. "I said **move!"**

Monica startled, then complied, grabbing her terry robe and wrapping it around herself quickly as she entered the dark corridor, followed closely by her abductor.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

The author's note in the last chapter was a chunk of a song from the claymation musical 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'. My son adores this movie and I have seen it, because of his desire to play it over and over again, probably fifty times, at least, in the last month or so alone.

Anyway, please take a sec to review, and remember… "Rules help **control** the fun!" 

MTLBYAKY


	10. 10

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Ten

**********

--"Is this about Chandler?" Monica continued to ramble, very aware that a gun was at her back, even with the absence of light. "Because, if you're in love with him or something, I can just-"

Laughing, she spat, "I am **not** in love with him! And just shut up now!"

Before Monica could say anything further, her worst nightmare became a reality. The passageway led to the dungeon, through a door, or what could be better described as a hole in the wall, that she hadn't seen on the tour Chandler provided.

Hesitating to enter, the woman behind Monica pushed her forward, almost knocking her to the ground as she stumbled. As she struggled to remain on her feet, she heard herself ask, "Did Chandler put you up to this?"

As casual as someone acts while keying into their house, the woman produced a small key and opened the large lock hanging from the cage. First pointing her gun back at Monica, then pointing over at the cage, she ordered, "Get in."

"Wait," Monica announced desperately. "I can **pay** you to let me go!"

With an evil sounding laugh, she shook her head. "You happen to have $25,000 in your bathing suit, there?"

Monica startled, staring back for a moment, her eyes growing wide. "Ursula?"

That agitated the woman, and Monica winced in pain as she was grabbed by the arm and physically forced into the cave.

"Wait, Ursula," she pleaded. "I don't have it **on** me, but I can get it! Please, just, let me go back to the room, and, I can make a call-"

"Just shut up, ok? I'm not making any deals with you. I'm just gonna do what I came here to do."

"Which is what?"

Glaring hard, she answered, "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you." Monica felt as if the blood had just drained from her body. "Let's just say, it's time for some payback, and time for me to get what I deserve."

The blond woman ignored the brunette as she walked away. As the false wall closed, and Monica was suddenly alone, she let out a scream, part from fear, part from the desire to catch someone's attention. Her dilemma aside, she had the distinct feeling that if Chandler **wasn't** involved with this, he was in danger.

**

--Her fingers were beyond sore as she gripped the lock that prevented her from leaving, slamming it repeatedly into the bars of the cage, trying to create enough noise to get someone's attention. The vibrations, along with her constant screaming had long since given her a headache, and the concept of time had become distorted about the time her voice started to give out. If she had to venture a guess, she would say she had been in the dungeon for at least an hour.

A million thoughts assaulted her mind, all at once, and over and over again. Would she be killed? Was Chandler in danger? Was she right when she assumed the blond was Ursula? Or was it really, actually, Phoebe who locked her in?

Was Chandler behind this? How did Ursula, or Phoebe get the key to the lock? Did Chandler lie when he said he didn't have the key? Was there really a Phoebe **and an Ursula, or was it the same person, working for Chandler? Or maybe there ****was a Phoebe **and** an Ursula, but they were **both** in cahoots with him.**

Maybe everything he ever told her was a lie. Maybe, she wouldn't be killed, but what was the alternative? She didn't want to think of that.

Taking a break from the banging and screaming, she sat heavy on the cold ground, a shiver working through her body. She wished in that moment that she'd had the chance to change into the warm flannel pajamas before the abduction.

"Hell, if I'm wishing for stuff," she mumbled to herself, "I wish for this to have never happened." Her whispers sounded surprisingly loud in the extreme quiet of the stone room. "Better yet," she said to her knees as she leaned her forehead against them, "I wish I could turn back time and decline the offer to come here in the first place."

The sudden sound of voices found her like a bullet finds a target, and she jumped up from off the ground as she strained to hear what was being said, and by whom.

"We can work something out."

"It's too late for that."

"Not yet it isn't. Just, let's talk it out. Just tell me what you want. What do you have to lose?"

"Besides my lunch? Time. And that's something I don't have the luxury of losing."

It was Chandler and Ursula, Monica realized. Or Phoebe. The need to run increased tenfold as she heard them approach. If Chandler **was** in on the whole imprisonment situation, she would be face to face with him in moments, learning what he wanted of her.

Fear was choking her, and she just knew, that whatever was about to happen, she wasn't going to be able to deal with it.

The large wood door made a creaking sound as it opened, revealing Chandler first, with Ursula directly behind, holding the gun in a way that would imply Chandler was her hostage. His eyes grew wide as they landed on Monica, locked in the cage, looking cold and frightened.

"Ursula, no," he said as he spun around to face her, ignoring the gun in his face. "She has nothing to do with this. Just, let her go."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "I hadn't planned on bringing her into this, but I can't very well have her running around, now can I? And don't even waste my time telling me she won't go to the police or whatever if I let her go, cause I'm **not as stupid as you think I am!"**

She waved the gun, gesturing towards the cage, indicating that she wanted him over by it, and he complied slowly.

"Don't try anything," she warned him, pulling the little key from her pocket to unlock the padlock. "I have nothing to lose by shooting you."

"It doesn't have to be like this," he told her, trying desperately to get himself and Monica out of the situation which they now found themselves. "I can give you however much you need. Twenty-five thousand. Fifty. One hundred-"

"It's too late for that!" she snapped, opening the cage door once the lock was open. "You had your chance to be nice to me, and you **blew** it! It's payback time. Now, get in."

"Ursula, please, be reasonable-"

"Shut up and get in!" she shouted, the gun inches from his face. "Or maybe I should just shoot pretty Miss Thing over here," she added, then pointed the gun at Monica.

Chandler startled, holding his hands up, making a sound that was something along the lines of gibberish before telling her, "Ok, Ursula, ok. I'll get in. Just, calm down. Monica hasn't done anything to you, ok?"

"No, but **you have, and she obviously means something to you. What better way to get back at you?" She left the rhetorical question there, the implication clear.**

Feeling Monica was in danger simply because of his attraction to her, he quickly offered a lie, hoping to take the attention away from her and put it back on him.

"I just met her tonight," he told the angry blonde. "I don't even **know her, let alone have feelings for her. I just don't want to see her get killed."**

"Did I ask for your freaking life story?!" she spat, pointing the gun back at him. "Shut up and **get in**!"

There was no reasoning with her, he could see that. Defeated, he did as she demanded and stepped inside the cage. Trying one last time to reach her, he said, "Ursula, it's not too late to do the right thing here. I'll give you the money, and we can forget this ever happened. I'm giving you an out here."

"I don't want your out," she snipped, clicking the lock closed. "I want you to pay for the crap you've put me through."

"Exactly **what have I done that is ****so horrible?"**

She only glared at him before turning to leave, ignoring him as he called for her to come back and answer the question.

"Just, come back and **talk** to me!" he exclaimed, but the heavy door slammed shut without hesitation, leaving him and Monica alone.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Ok, so, I'm in the livingroom, suffering from laryngitis, and my family is cooking dinner. My hubby is out there, supervising and helping, my 12 year old daughter is making mashed potatoes from the box (you know, the flakes?), asking everyone to taste test it to see if they need more salt, my 10 year old son is rambling on about some game he wants for Christmas while he gets out the plates and silverware, my 4 year old son is just pretty much under foot, and I hear the occasional, 'Joey! Get out!'

Then, out of nowhere, I hear my 14 year old daughter say: "Hey Baby, wanna kill all humans?"

Ever watch, or even hear of the cartoon sitcom 'Futurama'? There is a robot on the show by the name of Bender, and he said it in one of the eppies, apparently. But it was like, ok, one of these sentences does **not** belong in the middle of this conversation.

I was laughing, but because of the laryngitis, no one even realized it for several minutes, till the 12 year old came out to have **me** taste test the mashed potatoes, cause there was no sound coming out of me!

Anyway, that was a pretty pointless piece of info, just thought I'd share.

Ok, so, you know the drill… reviews make me whole inside. So…

PLEASE REVIEW!

MTLBYAKY


	11. 11

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Eleven

***********

--Turning to face her, Chandler sighed heavily as he apologized. "I am **so sorry you got dragged into this. She, isn't exactly stable."**

"I gathered," Monica muttered in response, her arms hugging herself tightly because of the cold, and as a defense mechanism.

"God, you're still in your swimsuit!" He removed his robe instantly, chivalrously offering it to her.

Shaking her head, she whispered, "I can't. You'll be cold."

"I insist," he told her firmly, draping it over her shoulders. "I'm dressed warmer than you."

"Not by much," she squeaked out, noting that he was dressed only in a simple t-shirt and sweat pants.

"What's wrong with your voice?" he asked, realizing for the first time that she sounded hoarse.

"I've been here for a while," she explained. "I was screaming for help."

"How long have you been here?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Minutes after we said goodnight, she came into my room, by way of some secret corridor. I thought it was Phoebe at first," she admitted. "I didn't realize it was Ursula until she made a mention of needing $25,000."

"I didn't know there was a secret passageway into the guestroom. Where did it lead to?"

Pointing to the wall just past the cage in reply, she asked, "How did she even know about it?"

"Good question!" he exclaimed. "And how did **she** happen to have the key to this lock?" he asked as he lifted then dropped it, causing a clanking sound against the bars.

"I wondered that myself," she muttered, a sharp exhale of breath following. "We're gonna die, aren't we?"

"No," he answered her, more assuredly than he felt. "She's not exactly **well, but she's not homicidal. After she gets what she wants, she'll leave."**

"But with us still locked in **here**, right?"

"Quite possibly," he told her honestly.

"How are we going to get out, then?"

"I'm not sure." 

Sounding more composed than she thought was warranted for the situation, she asked him, "How can you be so calm?"

"Don't mistake my lack of panic for calm," he said as he looked over their surroundings. "I'm worried, but, freaking out won't help us now."

"Is there ever a time when freaking would help?" she asked with sarcasm, and he smiled over at her.

"Ah, sarcasm," he acknowledged with a nod, "I know it well. I use that when I'm stressed or nervous, too."

"I guessed that," she replied. "Either that, or you're a closet standup comic."

He smiled at the joke, but seeing the fear written on her face, he dropped it and quickly took her into his arms. "I know it's hard, but, try not to worry, ok? We're gonna get out of this."

"How?" she asked, crying softly due to the strain of her voice, she felt comforted by his embrace and confidence, even with the huge question mark that seemed to continuously pop up with regard to his intentions.

"Joey and Phoebe come down here all the time," he shared, "That's one way. We might be able to reason with her once she cools down, that's another way. Maybe we can find a secret wall in **here**. That's also a possibility. I'm just saying," he said as he pulled back and encouraged her to look him in the eye, "It's far from hopeless, ok?"

Wanting more than anything to believe his words, she nodded, allowing him to pull her near once again.

"And just so you know," he added, speaking softly into her hair, "I only told Ursula that I didn't have feelings for you, to protect you. I didn't mean it."

Sensing that at the time he said it, she accepted his words, only nodding in response.

"My own restaurant isn't worth this," she whispered, and he held her tighter as he sighed.

"I know," he agreed softly, sympathetically. "I'll get you out of this, Monica, I swear I will."

*

--Almost an hour passed, and Chandler had combed every inch of the cave wall, within the cage, trying to find any sign of a secret passageway. Unfortunately, there was none to be found.

"That's one way shot down," Monica muttered, and Chandler sighed disappointedly.

"We still have options," he reminded her, then rattled the bars a little. "Maybe one of these bars is weak or something."

Grabbing them two at a time, he pulled and pushed at the bars, angrily, almost violently, trying to get at least one of them to budge. But it was to no avail.

"We still might be able to reason with her," he breathed, panting from the exertion spent on trying the bars. "And we also have Joey and Phoebe coming to the rescue as a possibility," he added.

Literally seconds later, voices could be heard on the approach.

"I think that's them!" he exclaimed, then listened closely as Monica joined him at the cage door.

"This is insane, Ursula! You've gone too far this time!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"There's no way you'll get away with this! Chandler isn't going to give you spit!"

"Shut up! Do you **not understand what 'shut up' means?!"**

"Do **you not understand what the word 'illegal' means?"**

"Oh my **God, shut up! I swear I'll ****kill you! Just to ****shut you up!"**

Chandler and Monica glanced at one-another with knowing expressions before their attention moved to the three people entering the room.

"Oh, God, they got you, **too**?" Phoebe asked Chandler, but before he could answer the obvious question, Ursula pushed her sister towards the cage.

"You, too," Ursula demanded of Joey, pointing the gun at him after waving it in the general direction of the cage and Phoebe.

"Ursula, please," Chandler pleaded, "This isn't necessary. I told you, I'll give you any amount of money you need."

"And I told **you to ****shut up!" Ursula shouted back. "Man, it's a good thing you are rich, cause you sure ain't too bright!"**

"Man, if **that isn't the pot calling the kettle black," Monica mumbled to herself, but Ursula heard it anyway.**

"Listen, **new girl, you wanna die real quick here? Keep it up!" She then retrieved a key from her pocket, and tossed it at Phoebe. "Open the cage, but remember, I have this pointed at new girl, and if you so much as twitch wrong, I'm gonna blow a new hole in her head! Got it?!"**

Phoebe glared at her sister before moving to open the lock, removing it from the latch.

"Get in!" she demanded, and Phoebe and Joey both slowly entered the prison. "Now lock it again!" she spat, and Phoebe complied, venom in her stare. "Now, toss the key back to me. And no funny business!" she added, "Or I start firing!"

Phoebe reached her arm through the bars and carefully tossed the key to her deranged sister, glaring angrily. "You just karma-cally sentenced yourself," she growled. "You realize that, I hope."

Ursula just scoffed, then pointed her gun directly at Chandler. "Where's the safe?"

"What safe?" he asked, but that only agitated her further.

"I **said," she shot back, taking a menacing step forward, "Where's the **safe**?!"**

When Chandler did nothing more than stare back at her, Ursula turned the gun on Monica.

"Tell me! Or **new girl gets it!"**

Chandler quickly moved to cover her, standing in front of her as he reached out and semi-pushed her behind him. "To get **her**, you'll have to go through **me**!" he snapped. "Kill **me**, and you'll never get your money!"

With an angry growl, she hit the bars of the cage with her gun, then pointed it at Chandler once again. "Tell me, or I will shoot you in the leg! And when you're on the ground, writhing in agony, I'll shoot **her**!"

"Let them go, and I'll take you to it."

"You're in **no position to barter with me!" she yelled. "Tell me **now** or I start shooting!"**

Chandler stared back defiantly, and Ursula stomped her foot, like a small child who didn't get her way.

"Listen, Richie Rich, I don't have time for this! So, I'm gonna count to ten, and by the time I'm done counting, if I don't hear the location of the safe, I'm gonna start shooting!"

"Just tell her where it is," Joey urged, but Chandler stood firm.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six."

"Tell her!" Phoebe begged as Ursula counted seven.

"Eight. Nine."

"Ok!" Chandler announced. "You win. The safe is in the hall, under a trap door, under the suit of armor."

Ursula sneered in victory. "Combination?"

"Fifteen left, seven right, twenty-two left," he told her. "There's probably about one-hundred thousand in there, give or take a thou."

"Good little rich boy," Ursula mocked, "You and your little friends get to live. For now," she added, then walked out of the room, slamming the large wood door shut behind her.

There was several moments of silence before Monica spoke up. "I guess we can rule out reasoning with her, and Phoebe and Joey rescuing us."

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Ok, so, how are we liking Ursula? Could she **be** any eviler? Will she get hers in the end? Will our caged friends ever escape? Stay tuned!

Oh, and please review!

MTLBYAKY


	12. 12

**The One With The Indecent Proposal**

By: Jana~

Chapter Twelve

************

--Escape seemed hopeless, so their focus changed. As Phoebe and Joey sat cross-legged on the ground, facing one another, they bounced ideas back and forth, trying to figure out how Ursula became so familiar with the secret passageways, knowing about at least one that even **they** didn't know of.

"And how did she get the key to the lock?" Joey asked.

"I don't know," Phoebe said with a shake of her head, dumbfounded.

"Maybe **she put the lock on this cage!" Joey offered with a gasp, his eyes wide with the accusation.**

"Well, she **did tour the place at least twice, drooling over it I guess, before she told me that it was up for sale. But, what are the chances that she would be in a position to put a lock on a cage? And why would she?"**

"So she could do **this**!" he exclaimed, stabbing pointedly at the ground, indicating the situation they were in.

"That would mean she has the ability to think ahead," she returned, disbelieving of that as the scenario. "Not one of her strengths."

Chandler heard what was being said, but his attention was more on Monica, than it was on the conversation being had.

"Monica?"

Phoebe and Joey both glanced at Chandler before looking over at Monica; she was standing by the cage door, leaning against it heavily, staring longingly out through the bars. She acknowledged him by turning slightly and glancing over her shoulder.

"Why don't you come and sit down," he suggested, waving her over, but she just shook her head. "Why not?"

"The ground is too cold to sit on."

For the last thirty minutes, she hadn't budged from that spot, Chandler noted, as his friends chatted, oblivious to the fact. He was worried about her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her carefully.

"I'm locked in a cage!" she exclaimed, facing him fully. "Yeah, I'd say something's wrong!"

"Besides **this," he clarified, gesturing towards the cage bars, "Is something wrong?"**

She scoffed before asking, "I don't think I need **another** reason to be upset, do I?" Before he could comment, she announced, "I'm gonna die in a **cage**, in a cage with virtual strangers, having accomplished **nothing in my life, more than being Pete Becker's girlfriend! I can hear the news anchors now," she added, "Among the dead was Monica Geller, former-multi-millionaire Pete Becker's ****former girlfriend."**

And then she burst into tears, dropping slowly to her knees as she cried. On his knees, Chandler rushed to her; she buried her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

"We're gonna make it out of this," he tried to assure her, but he knew she wasn't buying his forced confidence.

"My mom and dad," she continued, "Probably won't even care that I'm gone. Ross has always been their favorite. He can do no wrong, while **I** can do no right. Ross will care a little, but he's so hung up in love with Rachel, that he won't-"

She stopped abruptly and pulled back, her expression instantly changing from tormented to shocked and introspective.

"What?" Chandler asked, confused by her sudden change, but before she could answer, Ursula's voice rang out.

"Aww, what a touching scene." Ursula's tone dripped with poisonous sarcasm. "New girl is sad, so money bags is comforting her." She sighed, her hand to her heart, continuing her mockery.

Joey and Phoebe were on their feet in a flash, but Chandler and Monica remained where they were as Chandler glared back at their captor.

"You can cut the act, new girl," Ursula spat. "There's no more gold to dig. I cleaned him out, but good," she added with an evil smirk.

"Ok," Chandler announced, "You got what you came for! Now leave!"

"Oh, no, no, no, you forget, I also came for payback."

Chandler was on his feet in a split second, joining Phoebe and Joey in a united stand. "Cleaning me out, locking us in a cage and leaving us to die, that's payback enough," he informed her forcefully.

"You would think so, huh?" she shot back, unafraid and without remorse. "I have only just begun to torture and humiliate you."

"Ursula, you **bitch, this stops ****now!" Phoebe demanded, but Ursula only laughed.**

"You, dear sister, you get to go first." Subconsciously, everyone held their breath as they waited for Ursula to continue. "You are my **sister**," she began. "My **twin** sister! But you always treated me like I was somehow beneath you-"

"That's not true!" Phoebe interrupted.

"Shut up!" Ursula yelled. "Do **not** interrupt me!" The room fell silent. "You treated me like I was beneath you, and like I am a slut, especially after I did those porno movies. Your punishment," she announced with a malicious grin, "Is to strip completely naked-"

The two men stormed the bars, pointing at her and shouting as she backed away. The words were a jumble as Chandler and Joey spoke over-top of one another, but comments like 'you sick bitch' and 'you will **not** do this' could be heard. They stopped abruptly when she fired the gun towards the wall, just past the cage bars.

"I don't remember asking you **permission**, gentleman!" she shot back, pointing the gun at them. "Back away and shut up! You'll get your turn!"

As they took a reluctant step back, Phoebe stepped forward, her expression fearless. "We're twin sisters," she said as she began to unbutton her blouse, "If you wanted to see me naked, all you would have to do is strip down and stand in front of a mirror."

Ursula rolled her eyes, "It's symbolic, you twit!"

As Phoebe's clothes started to hit the floor, the other three occupants of the cage turned away.

"Toss your clothes to me," Ursula demanded, and Phoebe grabbed them off the ground and pushed them through the bars. "Now, when they find your bodies, who do you think will be labeled a slut?" Phoebe just glared back at her.

"Now it's Joey's turn," Ursula announced, pointing the gun at him and waving him over, indicating she wanted him to stand center-stage, so to speak. "Remember when we dated that time? And you broke up with me?"

"Hey!" he exclaimed defensively, "**You** broke up with **me!"**

She dismissed the fact with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her gun. "Whatever! Point **is, you didn't even ****want to be with ****me! You wanted to be with **Phoebe**!"**

"That's not-"

"Shut **up!" she yelled, cutting him off. "You people don't seem to **get it**, ****I'm in charge here! And I say, ****no talking!" After a pause for emphasis, she continued. "Your punishment, Mr. God's-Gift-To-Women… you have to have sex with Phoebe. Right here, right now."**

The screaming and yelling that followed was little more than a chaotic noise, all but Monica contributing to it.

Monica moved away, leaning against the stone that made up part of the side, and the entire back wall of the cage, watching the surreal scene unfold.

"You know what?! You know what?! You know what?!" Ursula yelled several times, trying to shut everyone up and give her their attention. "If you **don't do what I **tell** you, I swear I'll kill you!" **

The yelling and chaos continued, in spite of her threat, so she took aim and shot the ground next to Chandler's foot. She had meant to hit him, but didn't want to admit to making a mistake, so she covered.

"Next time," she threatened, "I won't miss."

The room fell silent, and the air seemed to grow denser.

"Now," she said, all attention on her, "Do the deed or die."

Joey turned to face Phoebe, trying to get a sign from her as to what to do. She just stared back for a moment, then shrugged.

"**Now**," Ursula demanded, "Or the bullets start flying!"

Joey glared back at her briefly before gently taking Phoebe's arm and leading her away from the center of the cage, more towards the back.

"Where are you going?" Ursula snipped.

"Like we can **go **any**where!" Phoebe shot back, inciting a deep sigh from her sister.**

"Just, hurry up with it, already! I don't have all night!"

Joey gently placed his hands on her bare arms, rubbing to warm her, whispering apologies to her. "I am **so** sorry. I don't know what to do- how to get out of this."

"It's ok," she assured him. "There could be a lot worse punishments." She smiled slight to let him know that she would be ok; that **they** would be ok, in the wake of it all, and he smiled in return.

"Oh, **God," Ursula groaned, "You people make me sick! I'm getting cavities just **listening** to this saccharin dribble! Just, forget it! Ugh!" she groaned again, then turned to leave.**

"Can I have my clothes back?" Phoebe called out, and Ursula spun back around to face her.

With an evil grin, she said, "No," then kicked at her sister's clothes on the floor before storming out.

The second the door slammed closed, Monica shrugged out of Chandler's robe and handed it over to Phoebe.

"Thanks," Phoebe muttered, appreciative, moving quickly to put it on. "I'm **so sorry about this, guys."**

"It's not your fault," Chandler insisted reassuringly. "She's a nutcase, and **you are nothing like her."**

Once the robe was in place, Joey wrapped his arms around her, helping to warm her. He was the warmest dressed of all of them.

Suddenly, Chandler remembered something. "Monica?" he asked, "Wasn't there something on your mind, right before Ursula came in?"

Staring back, her blank expression faded as a look of understanding came over her, remembering.

"Right," she said softly, "Um, I think I know of a way to get out of this, but," she added, embarrassed, "I don't come off looking too good."

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review! And remember, 'handle' is Chandler's middle name. Actually, it's the middle part of his first name.

MTLBYAKY


	13. 13

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Thirteen 

*************

--"I think I know of a way to get out of this," Monica told them, embarrassed. "But I don't come off looking too good."

"What do you mean?" Chandler asked.

"Ok," she began as three sets of eyes stared back at her intently. "I had just seen the dungeon, and I was a little bit freaked out, so, when I got on the phone with my friend, Rachel-"

Joey suddenly gasped, pointing as he exclaimed, "You told her to come here looking for you if you didn't show up in twenty-four hours!"

Monica's eyes narrowed on the man she barely knew, and asked, "How exactly did you know that?"

With a remorseful shrug, he admitted, "I was eavesdropping."

"Joseph Francis Tribbiani!" Phoebe scolded him. "That isn't nice!"

"I wasn't doing it on purpose! I was bringing her back a glass of water, and I overheard her talking. I don't know why I just stood there, listening, but I did. She was talking about being freaked out, and about Chandler," he added in his defense. "I was just curious."

"I don't even care," Monica said, dismissing the intrusion on her privacy. "We have bigger problems. I gave her the address, and the description of the dungeon, but I didn't tell her it was located down a secret passageway." With a heavy sigh, she added, "It's going to take them some time to realize where we are."

"Realistically," she continued, "We could be looking at as much as 2 to 3 days, being locked in here with **no** food, **no water, and ****no way to go to the bathroom."**

Joey plopped down on the floor, defeated, and Phoebe joined him, reacting to the cold floor now that she was in nothing more than a robe.

"Here," Joey said, then flattened his legs and touched her arm. "Sit on my lap."

"Are you sure?" she asked, and he nodded in response. "You're a good man, Joey."

Monica watched as she climbed into the man's lap, then leaned back against him as he leaned back against the cage's stone wall. She realized, as she watched the interaction, that Phoebe wasn't in love with Chandler. If she was, she loved Joey, as well. She just obviously had a deep bond with the two men, and them with her.

Chandler touched her shoulder, and she looked over at him. "I am **so sorry," he whispered, and she nodded.**

"I know," she whispered back. "I don't blame this on you, or your friends." She shifted her weight from one leg to the other several times, but the action provided little relief. Sure, she stood a lot longer when she was working as a chef, but she hadn't done that in a while. Her feet weren't used to standing for such a long period of time.

"Here," he said softly, gesturing to the ground. "Sit on my lap, so you don't freeze from the cold ground."

"I- I don't know-"

He smiled, knowing what her nervous stammering fell short of saying. "I'll be a perfect gentleman," he assured her. "Scouts honor."

"Were you ever even a scout?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"Ok," he revamped his promise. "How about, lottery winner's honor?"

She couldn't help but grin, though it left her face quickly, the situation not understanding of the expression. "If you're sure you don't mind," she said softly, watching as, a moment later, he was down on the ground, his legs flattened so she could sit atop them.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did," he told her, and patted his legs in gesture for her to join him.

As if easing into a hot bath, she slowly lowered herself onto his lap, uncomfortable about how comfortable she felt in the position.

At least several minutes ticked by before Phoebe muttered, "With all that's been going on, and with the adrenalin rush and all, I forgot how tired I was."

Joey mumbled something in agreement, his eyes heavy.

"Do you think she's gone for good?" Monica asked, sounding sleepy.

"Probably," Chandler answered, a yawn following. He could see Monica nodding, struggling to stay upright as she fought sleep. "Lay back," he whispered, his hand on her shoulder, gently bringing her to him. "Try to get some sleep," he instructed; she didn't resist.

***

--"She was insistent, Ross," Rachel told him, sounding annoyed. "She said that everything was fine. She just gave me the address, just in case."

"People don't have dungeons if they don't have a use for them!" Ross exclaimed. "My little sister could be locked in a cage, right now!"

"I really think you're overreacting," she muttered. "But, if you **must do this, here's the address." She stopped short of handing the paper to him, gaining his full attention. "Just don't make an ass of yourself, ok?"**

"What's **that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply.**

"It **means, that you have a tendency to freak first and think later. If you get there, and she says that all is fine, then, **leave**. Ok? Don't stick around and judge and pester."**

He scoffed. "I just want to be sure she's ok. If she tells me to leave, of **course I will."**

"You say that like it's a given," she said with a roll of her eyes, grabbing her coat off the hook. "I better come with."

"Why?" he asked, irritated by her assumptions of how he would react.

"To keep you in line," she returned firmly. "Now, let's go!" she ordered, pointing at the door. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back and get some sleep."

*

--"Pete? Hi, it's Ross," he said into the cell phone, unable to immediately explain the reason for calling due to Pete's reaction to the hour of the call. "Yes," Ross returned with a roll of his eyes, "I'm aware of the time. Look, the guy Monica went home with, what do you know about him?"

"Not much," Pete muttered around a yawn. "His name is Chandler Bing, and he's a lottery winner. Don't know much more than that."

"It's important, Pete," Ross insisted, trying to convey the seriousness. "I need to know everything, regardless to how insignificant you think it is."

"Well," Pete said as he sat upright and turned his bedside light on. "He seemed to be smitten with Monica, at the party, but I didn't really realize it till **after she broke it off with me. He offered me a million dollars, if I would consent to her spending twenty-four hours with him."**

"Good, Lord!" Ross exclaimed, and Rachel glanced at him several times as she kept one eye on the road.

"What?" she asked. "What's he saying?"

"The guy offered to give Pete one million dollars, if he could spend twenty-four hours with Monica!"

"Oh my God! That's just, creepy!"

"Pete," Ross urged, "You have connections, right? I need this Chandler guy's phone number. And as many police officers as possible at his house, ASAP."

"Why? What's going on?" Pete asked, sitting upright and grabbing his dayplanner.

"Rachel got a call earlier, from Monica," Ross began to explain. "Monica called to give Rachel the address of where she was. Said she was freaked out, cause the guy has some sort of **dungeon** in his house! We're worried that this guy is out to harm her," he added, trying to be calm when he saw Rachel tense and drive faster.

"Ok, his number is…" As Pete rattled off the number, Ross repeated it so that Rachel could help remember it. "I'll call you back as soon as I get the police called."

Ross rattled off his own cell number, then thanked him profusely before hanging up and dialing the number for Chandler's.

"No answer," he said after allowing the phone to ring a few dozen times. "I have a very bad feeling about this."

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review!

"How are things going with 'crazy'? Has she cooked your rabbit yet?"

MTLBYAKY


	14. 14

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

**Chapter Fourteen**

**************

--Ross clicked off the phone, sighing as he stared up at the castle in front of him. "He says the police are on their way, and to **not** just let ourselves in, or we can be arrested for breaking and entering. Or at the very least, trespassing."

"My, God," Rachel gasped softly. "This place is amazing."

"Yeah. The property is so massive, gotta wonder how many bodies are buried out here," Ross muttered cryptically.

Rachel huffed, then smacked his arm. "That's just great, Ross! So much for reassuring words to keep the women-folk calm. What ever happened to consoling comments like, everything's gonna be ok?"

"But I don't know that everything is going to be ok, Rach. What, do you want me to lie to you?" he asked.

"No, Ross, I'm not saying you should lie, it's just, usually, when a stressful situation presents itself, one would-"

The sentence ended abruptly when the door to the elaborate residence flew open, revealing a blond woman on the move.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, seemingly annoyed.

"Um," Ross wavered, his thoughts scattered for a moment. "I'm Ross, this is Rachel. We're looking for Monica."

"Don't know any Monica," she snipped, then moved past them with the large bag she was carrying.

"You, need some help?" Ross offered, but she didn't even pause to respond.

"Nope," she said shortly, continuing towards a yellow cab parked not too far away. "You have the wrong house or something," she muttered, adding, "Go away."

"How rude," Rachel whispered, watching as Ross followed the woman to the car.

"Pretty sure we have the right address," he said as he trailed behind. "What about Chandler? Is **he** in?"

The woman knew the name, Ross was sure of that, by her reaction. There was a very noticeable pause in her pace, and a soft scoffing sound he could just barely make out.

"Can we talk to him, please? It's important."

She threw the bag she was carrying into her car, then spun around, indignant. "He's not home right now. He's out on a date."

Ross scowled. "At…" he checked his watch, "Twenty after one in the morning?"

"Well," she returned snottily, "You're out after one, aint'cha?"

"Only because we're trying to find my sister," he said in response. "Monica Geller? Dark shoulder-length hair, blue eyes?"

"I'm not Chandler's babysitter, ok?" she shot back, then climbed into her car. "And if this Monica gal is an adult, **she** doesn't need one either, right?"

Ross was getting irritated with the woman, and with a slightly tense jaw, asked, "And what's your name? How do you figure into all this?"

Turning over the car, she shot him a dirty look, snapping back at him, "My name is Ur- uh, Phoebe. And how I **figure** into **this, is none of your business." Before the sentence was even finished, she threw the car into drive and dropped her foot onto the gas pedal. **

Shaking his head, Ross moved from where he had been standing, back towards Rachel, glancing over his shoulder as the cab's breaklights became smaller and smaller.

"Something's not right here," he told her, then pointed towards the front door as he realized, "It's open. She left it open."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know for sure. She didn't seem to know anything about Monica, but she said Chandler was out on a **date**?" He was definitely disbelieving of that, as his tone strongly indicated. "I also think she was lying about her name," he added.

"Why do you think that?" Rachel asked, stepping up behind him as he peeked through the open door, peering in as well.

"When I asked her name, she started to say **one** thing, but then stammered before answering. I mean, what, she doesn't know her own name?"

"What are you doing?" she asked as he inched the door open slightly. "Pete said not to go in."

"It's not breaking and entering when the door is left open. Besides," he added, taking a step across the threshold, "I'll just tell the police that the Ur-uh-Phoebe person told us to go on in."

Nervously, Rachel linked her arm with Ross', moving with him as they entered the elaborate foyer.

"I would be **so into this place," she whispered, "If I wasn't so worried."**

"Focus, Rachel," Ross instructed. "I need you to remember everything Mon told you."

Struggling to remember, she muttered, "Dark corridor, uh, big wood door. Cage with a padlock! And, uh, shackles hanging from the wall."

"The corridor, did she say anything else about that?" he asked. "Like, where it was located? How they got to it?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Oh!" she suddenly remembered, "Ya'know what? When she was talking about it, she was whispering, like she was trying to keep someone from hearing her."

A deep sigh escaped as he tried to decide how best to proceed. "Ok, dungeons would, theoretically, be located downstairs. Like, in a basement or something."

"Doubt this place has a basement," Rachel countered. "Places like this don't have basements."

"No," he returned, "They have **dungeons**."

"Fine," she whispered back sharply, "So, what's the plan?"

With a shrug, he told her, "Find stairs that go down."

***

--There was no way of knowing what time it was, but it felt like hours had passed. The soft sounds of Joey snoring made it known that he was asleep, and he was fairly certain, by the occasional mumbling noises, that Phoebe was too.

Monica seemed to be asleep, though fitfully, and like she could wake up at any moment. Chandler, however, couldn't sleep, for many reasons. Some were obvious, and expected, like the fact that he was locked in a cage, and because of the coldness of the room, other reasons weren't as clear.

He viewed her as she reclined against him, curled up on his legs, not unlike how a young child might on a parent's lap. Tenderly, he brushed her bangs from her face, wrapping his arms around her to provide her with the little warmth he possessed. He had this inexplicable urge to protect her.

This was **so not how he envisioned his time with her would be. After this, she would never want to see him again, the sight of him probably being enough to bring bad memories to the surface she would obviously want to bury.**

"I'm **so sorry," he whispered, startled when she answered back.**

"You don't have to be," she murmured. "I told you, I don't blame you for this. This isn't your fault."

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said as he shifted slightly, his legs fast asleep and aching.

"I wasn't really sleeping," she confessed, "I just didn't want you to know I was awake."

"Why?"

"I didn't want you to blame yourself for that, too," she explained. "Ridiculing yourself for being the reason why I couldn't sleep."

He sighed. "You could be **home**, in a bed with Pete Becker right now, if it wasn't for me."

"I wouldn't be home in bed with Pete Becker, if I hadn't come here," she told him with certainty. "And if given the choice, I wouldn't be there now."

Wincing slightly, he asked, "That bad?"

"Well, let's just say that **this** room, is warmer than **his bed."**

"Wow."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, embarrassed, "I don't know why I just told you that."

"It's ok that you did," he assured her, the comment an indication that she could continue the subject, if she wanted to.

"It was like, once he had me, in his eyes, he didn't have to try anymore."

"So things got lukewarm in the… romance department."

"Exactly. And 'lukewarm' is being generous. He probably cared about me, you know, on some level, but, sometimes, that's just not enough."

"Yeah. You want to fall in love with someone that will continue to love you passionately, even after being married for fifty years. Not one that loses interest after a few months."

It was like he was reading her mind, her very soul, and as he gazed into her eyes, she could feel her heart flutter and her breath catch.

"Would it be considered totally inappropriate, under the circumstances, if I were to kiss you right now?" he asked carefully, not wanting to upset her.

There was only a slight shake of her head before she reached up, entwined her fingers into his hair, and reached for his lips with her own.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review! And remember… "No one likes a buttmunch!" 

MTLBYAKY


	15. 15

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

**Chapter Fifteen**

***************

--"We shouldn't be doing this," Monica mumbled against Chandler's lips, her protests weak. "Your friends…"

"Are asleep," he mumbled back. "They could sleep through anything," he added, his lips finding her neck; his warm breath was a welcome sensation in the cold of the room. "One time, Joey actually fell asleep **during** an audition."

"Audition?" she asked, breathless, arching into his kisses as her fingernails raked up his arm.

"He's an actor," he answered, a winded whisper, his hand sliding into her hair.

"Would I know him?" Her heart wasn't really invested in the answer, her head spinning from the affection he doted on her.

"Days Of Our Lives," he said simply, his kisses hungrier.

Suddenly pulling away, her eyes wide, she exclaimed quietly, "Dr Drake Ramoray!"

Chandler forced a polite smile, his breath ragged.

"I thought I recognized him from somewhere," she whispered, peeking over her shoulder at the man being discussed as he slept uncomfortably.

His expression seemed almost pained as he asked, "You a fan?" The cold air stung and dried out his throat as he struggled to breathe normally.

It wasn't hard to see where his thoughts had been. What he was assuming. "No. My friend, Rachel is. **Big** soap opera fan." That revelation caused a change in Chandler's façade. "I'm not interested in Joey," she told him sincerely. "I'm interested in you, Chandler."

Cold fingertips grazing her skin, inching beneath her robe caused a warmth to spread from deep inside. "I am **so** captivated by you, Monica. And I don't want to scare you, by moving too fast. Especially **now, with all this," he added as he glanced at the cage bars, "But, I really feel something for you."**

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" There was no hint to her feelings on the issue showing in her tone or demeanor.

Honestly, he answered with, "I didn't used to."

With a slight nod she asked, "But now?" 

"The moment I saw you," he whispered, "I started to believe."

A deep sigh escaped, her heart racing from his touch. "It doesn't seem so cold in here now," she whispered; she had never felt so aroused, so dizzy with desire, by such simple contact.

"Um, guys?" Monica and Chandler both startled at the sound of Joey's voice. "Sorry to interrupt, but, just so you know…" his eyes remained closed as he spoke, "I'm actually awake."

"How long have you been listening to us?" Chandler asked, sounding slightly cross, slightly amused.

Eyes fluttering open, he guiltily said, "Since Monica asked if you believed in love at first sight."

"Me, since she told you that Rachel is a soap opera fan," Phoebe admitted, her eyes opening as she spoke.

Hiding a smile, Monica looked at Chandler. "So much for the 'they could sleep through anything' theory."

"You guys are making a great impression here," Chandler scolded them.

"I wasn't eavesdropping on purpose!" Phoebe insisted defensively.

"See?" Joey exclaimed. "It can happen even though you don't mean it to!"

"I just wasn't sure if I should say something and interrupt," Phoebe continued, "Or keep my mouth shut and give you guys some privacy."

"Which is hard to do," Joey added, "Seeing as how we're in the same stupid cage together."

"Now, sweetie," Phoebe corrected, "The cage isn't stupid, my sister is."

"Speaking of," Chandler interjected, "We haven't seen her in a while."

"My legs are asleep," Joey muttered, wiggling uncomfortably.

Phoebe, realizing near immediately that she was the cause of his discomfort, struggled to stand. "Oh, eeesh, I'm sorry!"

"Your legs are probably asleep too, huh?" Monica asked Chandler, not waiting for his answer before moving off his lap; she shuddered when her skin made contact with the cold ground.

"It's colder than a witches tit in here," Phoebe announced, and they all shot her an odd look. "My grandma used to say that," she explained.

"My grandma used to say, it's cold enough to hang meat," Monica shared, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

Chandler groaned, catching everyone's attention. "Pins and needles! Pins and needles!"

"I like that feeling," Phoebe admitted. "It's like, pain and pleasure mixed."

Still suffering, Chandler made a face, his antics almost comical as he corrected his friend. "No, it's like pain and **pain**, **period!"**

"It's because it's so cold," Monica interjected. "That it hurts that much."

"I think you guys had the right idea," Joey stated, shaking and rubbing his legs to get the blood flowing again. "Making out warms you up."

Monica laughed, "It's like a bad porno movie! C'mon, baby," she cooed, pretending to be acting out a scene from an adult movie, "It's **so** cold, and we have nothing better to do."

It happened before the final words were even out of Monica's mouth. Suddenly, like a lightbulb moment, it all became clear as crystal.

"Oh my God, I know! I know how Ursula did this!"

***

--"Where do you suppose everyone is?" Rachel asked, following Ross closely.

"Who's everyone?" He whispered his question as he opened a door and peeked inside.

"Monica, Chandler, the friend…"

Spinning around to face her, he asked, "What friend?"

"She said there was a friend," Rachel explained. "He was part of the reason why she passed out."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Nothing. She just wasn't expecting to see him right then, and she was freaking over the dungeon already. It caused her to faint."

"You're sure it was a guy friend?"

"Well, she said 'he' when referring to him. So, yeah, I'm gonna say it's a guy."

The sarcasm in her tone was noted and dismissed, Ross rolling his eyes before opening another door and peering in.

"Oh my God," he whispered, pushing his way in. "Monica was here."

"How do you know?" Rachel asked, fast on his heels.

"Who else would have folded their pajamas so neatly, with the blanket pulled down to just the right angle?" Whipping around, he scanned the room, looking for any other signs that his sister had been there. He gasped, pointing at the dresser. "A woman's evening bag!"

Rachel grabbed his arm, leaning on him as he plucked the purse off the piece of antique furniture and slowly opened it; she gasped as Ross produced a New York license with Monica's picture on it.

"She wouldn't have left without her purse!" Rachel hissed.

"Which means she's still here," Ross theorized. "Unless she was dragged off against her will. Dead or alive."

Promptly, she hit him. "Would you **stop** that!" she snipped. "What the hell is the matter with you?!"

"Freeze!"

Ross and Rachel both spun around, to be faced with a uniformed officer holding a gun.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Please review! And remember… you're not allowed to go through the metaphorical commitment tunnel with more than one person in the car.

MTLBYAKY


	16. 16

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

**Chapter Sixteen**

****************

--"Oh my God, I know!" Phoebe announced. "I know how Ursula did this!"

All eyes were on her in an instant, tension elevated as they waited for her to explain.

"Remember when you guys were all freaked out," Phoebe began, "Cause you thought I had done those porno movies? But it turned out-"

"That it was Ursula!" Joey interrupted with a snap of his fingers, immediately catching on.

"Right!" she exclaimed. "Remember 'Buffay, The Vampire Layer'?" she asked, then gestured to the room they were in. "Look familiar?"

"She knew about the secret passageways, and had the key to this lock because she's been here before! Doing porn!" Joey announced, saying aloud what everyone had already pieced together. "She's an evil genius!"

"She's not an evil genius," Monica corrected, "She's just plain **evil! How can you guys be identical twins, but be ****so different?" she asked Phoebe.**

With a subtle shrug, she said, "She just didn't cope as well with certain stresses."

"Well," Monica scoffed, "Everyone has stress, from time to time, and **most people don't go locking family and friends up in a dungeon and steal from them!"**

"It goes beyond day to day stress," Chandler interjected in a whisper, his hand sliding onto Monica's shoulder.

By the looks on their faces, Monica could tell there was a huge story behind that simple comment.

***

--"Ok," the officer said, lowering his weapon, "You're cleared."

Though there was no doubt in their own minds of whose side they were on, Ross and Rachel were relieved to hear those words from the man with the gun.

"Thank you, officer," Rachel sighed, standing from her position on the ground.

"What are you guys doing in here?" he asked, holstering his firearm.

"This blond woman said we could go in," Ross quickly lied. "She said Chandler was on a date and we could wait for him inside."

Rachel glanced at him as the lie fell easily from his lips.

"What blond woman?"

"She said her name was Phoebe," Ross told the cop, "But I think she may have been lying."

"And why would you think that?" he asked.

"Because, she didn't answer right away, and then when she did, she stammered her answer."

"And she was carrying a bag of something, to a taxi she drove herself when she left," Rachel contributed. "And she was very rude."

"We were just looking around," Ross continued, "Cause the place is so large-"

"And so amazing!" Rachel added.

"We were just, sort of, giving ourselves the tour-"

"And trying to see if anyone was home-"

"And when we peeked in here, we saw the compulsively neat way in which the bed was turned down-"

"And since Monica is such a neat freak-"

"Who else would fold the bed down just so, and have their nightclothes arranged in such a way?" Ross asked rhetorically, gesturing towards the bed. "So we let ourselves in-"

"And then we found her purse with her license in it!" Rachel exclaimed, pointing to the dresser where the purse sat.

"Ok, slow down. Slow down," the officer instructed. "You're going to have to talk to the sergeant about all this."

***

--"Wow," Monica sighed, taken aback. She had always thought her childhood was stressful, what with her parents preferring her brother Ross to her, but the tale Phoebe had just told made her upbringing look picture perfect.

"That's so harsh," she added with a shake of her head, welcoming the feel of Chandler's arm around her. "I don't even know what to say to that."

Phoebe acknowledged with a nod. "We both ended up on the streets after our mom's suicide, but Ursula didn't take the experience and learn from it, or strive to better her situation. She just got bitter, and angry. She started looking at life as if the world was out to get her, and acted as if everyone owed her something, to make up for the rotten things that had happened to her."

"When Chandler won the money," she continued, "She felt, and still feels that he owes her whatever she demands of him, because he's friends with **me, and she and I are sisters."**

"She actually argued with me, that because she told me about this place," Chandler added, "That **she** should get to live here. I saw the potential for problems, and said no right off, but I made the mistake of giving her some money, to appease her and keep the peace."

"She kept coming back for more," Phoebe went on. "It was always something, and what he gave her was never good enough. A few thousand here, a few thousand there; once she asked for eight thousand."

"That was when I said it was the last time," Chandler said, "And that was about three weeks ago."

"She went through eight thousand in three weeks?" Monica asked, shocked.

"According to her," he answered. "On **what**, God only knows."

"She never gives you a reason for needing it?"

"Sometimes. Usually, she's vague. Her excuses have been, I need to fix up grandma's taxi, I have to pay back rent, I need to buy clothes for a job interview-"

"And the time she asked for money to sign up for that class on how to draw blood," Joey interjected.

"The Phlebotomy course, yeah," Chandler said with a nod. "Did we ever find out what happened with that?"

Phoebe shook her head. "No. I asked once, but she dodged the question. I knew if pressed, she would just lie, so I dropped it."

"Maybe it's not my place to say anything here," Monica announced cautiously, "And maybe you guys have already considered this, but, maybe Ursula has a drug problem?"

Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe looked at one another for a moment, before turning their attention back to Monica. "What makes you say that?" Chandler asked.

"Well, needing large amounts of money often, her obviously irrational behavior, and seeing things in a warped light, so to speak. I mean, granted, I only saw her a few times one night, but, she seemed to have a very different account of events from what you guys remember. She lived on the streets, where drug problems can often begin… she's done porno movies, which **could** be a sign that she lacks the ability to make good judgment calls…" She shrugged. "I'm just saying it's a possibility, from what I've seen, is all."

***

--"All officers have reported back, sir," the officer informed the sergeant. "There is no sign of anyone, **or** anything that could be viewed as a dungeon."

"They have to be here," Rachel insisted. "Monica wouldn't just leave without her purse or license!"

"The place is **huge!" Ross suggested, "Isn't it possible that one of your men **overlooked** the entrance to the dungeon?"**

"We checked every room, sir," the reporting officer assured him.

"What about the possibility of secret passageways?" one officer chimed in, and all eyes jumped to him. A bit nervously, he explained, "It's just that, this place used to belong to that weird rich guy who used to make those low budget porno movies. According to gossip, his place had secret passageways."

All eyes remained on him, and his supervisor wore a disapproving expression as he stared back.

"What?" the officer asked defensively. "I didn't **watch** the movies, I just **heard** the gossip!"

The sergeant dropped the look from his face, then instructed, "Find out the guy's name, then get him on the phone and ask **him** where the dungeon is located. And put out on APB on Chandler Bing and Monica Geller," he added, the officers under his command jumping into action immediately.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

I have had two colds, laryngitis, and the flu in the last four weeks. Blech, I hurt! And, of course, this is the time my wisdom tooth, that's growing in **all wrong, by the way, has decided to start hurting as well. My hubby and all my kids have been sick, my youngest **twice**, and my hubby is a great big whining crybaby when he's sick! My dad finally moved out, so we have been dealing with that… I'm not done Christmas shopping yet… and, what day is it? …we don't even have our Christmas tree yet!**

My youngest son, who is almost 5, has been officially diagnosed with ADHD and Autism. He qualifies for a special education program through the school district, to attend a class 3 hours per day, 5 days per week, to help him with skills, academics, and socialization, and starting in January, he will be picked up in a little yellow school bus and taken to a school several miles away. I am scared to death about this!

Oh, and his new favorite word is 'damnit'. We **think** he got it from the 'TOW The Truth About London' episode, where Ben repeats Rachel, cause his tone of voice is similar. Can't tell you how embarrassing it is, waiting at the checkout at the grocery store, and having your son saying 'damnit' for all others in line to hear.

Oh, and then, one of the Pages at Audiences Unlimited (the company that is in charge of escorting guests into sitcom tapings) reported to their supervisor that I was being combative and uncooperative at the last sitcom taping I went to! This, by the way, is a **total** falsehood. After treatment that I felt was unfair to me, I **simply** commented that I was unhappy about said treatment. They almost banned me from ever going to a sitcom taping again! After I spoke with Audiences Unlimited, and explained my side of the story, they lifted the ban, but **warned me that if any future reports came in about me, that the ban would be reinstated. I asked, what's to prevent this person from lying again? But I received no answer to that question.**

I swear, this has been an **eventful** few weeks! So, be extra specially kind to me please and review!

MTLBYAKY


	17. 17

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

**Chapter Seventeen**

*****************

--"Does anyone have any thoughts to how we're gonna deal with the… going to the bathroom, situation?" Monica asked haltingly, breaking the dead silence of the room.

"I wondered who would be the first," Joey muttered, looking back at the woman with sympathy.

"Well, we should probably keep to the back wall, for **that**," Chandler suggested. "Plus, the incline works in our favor that way."

"How come she couldn't have locked us up in **there**?" Joey whined, gesturing to the door on the other side of the room that led to the Roman Spa. "At least there's a bathroom in **there**. And it's warm, with comfortable lounge chairs to lounge in."

"Because she wanted us to suffer," Phoebe reminded. "Locking us up in the lap of luxury isn't exactly torture, now is it?"

"I thought going to the bathroom while out camping was bad," Monica mumbled as she stared at the back wall of the cave. "At least in the wilderness there are bushes to obscure you."

Trying to be a comfort, Joey said, "Don't worry, we won't look or anything."

Uncomfortable, and just a bit weirded out by the situation, she forced a strained smile as she thanked him.

**

--"Ok, sir," the officer announced as he approached the sergeant, "We have the guy's name and number."

"Patch it through," the sergeant ordered, his attention on the piece of paper with the information on it. "Kyle Brock," he read in a whisper, taking the phone when handed to him.

"Hello," the sergeant's voice boomed with authority. "This is Sergeant Cumins of the New York Police Department-"

"Do you have any idea what **time** it is?!" the man on the other end asked irately.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry about the time, but I need to speak with Mr. Kyle Brock," Sergeant Cumins insisted. "It's urgent."

"This is Kyle Brock," the man grumbled. "What do you want at this insane hour of the morning?"

"Sir, we got a call tonight, about a possible hostage situation at your former residence on Heaton Place, and, well, we need your help sir, with the layout- the floorplan, of the home."

"Hostage situation?" Mr. Brock's tone was less combative, listening further.

"Yes, sir," the sergeant confirmed. "Now, we have reason to believe that the possible hostages are being kept in some sort of makeshift dungeon on the property, possibly accessible through some sort of secret passageway?"

"A what?" the man laughed. "A **dungeon**? I'm sorry, officer, but, to my knowledge, there is **no** dungeon on the property. At least, there wasn't when **I lived there. What the new owner has added, I wouldn't know about."**

"What about the rumors that you had secret passageways built and-?"

"Officer Cumins," Mr. Brock countered, "Rumors are the name of the game in my business. You can't believe everything you hear or read. Now, if you don't mind, since I'm up, I'm going to go get a nice cup of tea before attempting to catch a little more sleep." He didn't wait for an answer before hanging up.

"Well," the sergeant announced, "He claims he knows nothing about a dungeon or secret passageways."

"Not possible," the helpful officer interjected. "There was a huge article about it in some magazine, and he was photographed at the entrance to one of the secret tunnels." When everyone began eyeing him suspiciously, he defensively asked, "What?"

One officer laughed as he patted his partner on the back. "Hey, what you do on your own time…"

"Oh, cut it out," the first officer snipped. "My wife and I are going to a fertility expert, if you **must** know, and when you make your… **deposit**, they lock you in a room with a lot of porn mags, ok?"

Sergeant Cumins cleared his throat, getting the officers' attention. "Alright, men, bottom line here is, Mr. Brock lied to me, and I don't like to be lied to. Find out who is in patrol nearest his current residence and have them pick him up for questioning."

"Yes, sir!"

*

--"You really messed this up. That was the police! They are actually **there, snooping around, trying to find ****the hostages!"**

"I wasn't exactly expecting an extra person to be there, ok, **Kyle**?" Ursula spat back. "You didn't exactly hold up your end of things either, did'ja? I mean, the money wasn't even where you said it would be! It was in the main hallway, under a trap door, under a suit of armor!"

"Shut up," he grumbled, irritated, "Or I'll gag you again."

Pulling against the rope that held her firmly to the chair, she snapped, "Bite me, fat ass! You had no intention of taking me with you, did you? You just used me to get Chandler's money!"

"Of course," he answered casually, resuming his task of packing. "You're a liability, sweetheart, and I'm not really the type to share, anyway."

"I hope your plane crashes!" she snipped, poison in her tone.

"Such a horrible thing to wish for," he returned cockily. "What about all those innocent people on the plane with me?"

"I hope the plane crashes," she corrected, glaring hard, "With only **one** fat ass fatality."

*

--"So, what happens now?" Ross asked Sergeant Cumins, Rachel hanging on his arm, looking concerned.

"Well," the sergeant answered, "We take Mr. Brock down to the station and hope we can extract information from him."

"What if he isn't cooperative?" Ross asked. "What if it takes **hours or even **days** to crack him? There has to be another way to find out about the layout of this place! Like, maybe the architect? Or the real estate agent!" he announced excitedly. "She or he might know, right?"**

The sergeant stared back for a moment, a tiny grin being suppressed. "Who's in charge here, you or me?"

"Sorry," Ross apologized, "Just offering suggestions."

"And they're good ones," Sergeant Cumins complimented. "Patterson," he called out to a nearby officer, "Find out which real estate agency handled the sale of the residence, and then find out which agent specifically was in charge of showing the place."

"Yes, sir!" He was off in a flash.

"Don't worry, guys," The sergeant directed the comment to Ross and Rachel. "One way or another, we'll find out what's going on here."

"Um, sorry to interrupt, but, what the hell is going on?"

Sergeant Cumins spun around, staring back at the man responsible for the inquiry. "Who are you?"

"Jack Pearson," the man introduced himself. "I'm here to tend to the pool."

"You're an employee here?" Ross asked, and the man nodded. "Do you know anything about a dungeon, or secret passageways?"

The sergeant in charge seemed a little annoyed that Ross was essentially doing his job for him, but said nothing as he waited for the pool guy to answer.

"Of course," Jack said easily. "You can't even get to the pool without passing through the dungeon."

Tension in the room elevated tenfold when that information hit the air, everyone very aware that a huge piece of the puzzle was about to be solved.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Sorry the chapter is a bit short, but it was a good place to cut it. Did'ja see that coming? Huh? Did'ja, did'ja?

Ok, so, you know what it takes to make me happy… leave a review!

Please.

MTLBYAKY


	18. 18

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

**Chapter Eighteen**

******************

--"Ok," the sergeant ordered, "I want the civilians to be kept back and safe. We'll call them to identify the hostage once the area is secure."

Rachel and Ross watched from a distance as several officers, with guns drawn, headed down the semi-dark corridor accessed at the back of the game room.

Comforting her, Ross wrapped his arms around Rachel, pulling her tight to him as he whispered consoling words. "This is it," he said. "They'll find her, and she'll be safe, ok? Don't worry."

"Thank you," she whispered back, resting her cheek against his chest; with every ounce of her being, she focused her thoughts on **that** being true.

*

--"You know what **I** could go for?" Monica asked, playing along with the game Joey started, "A big juicy steak, with a side of those big hunkin steak fries."

"Mmm, yeah, that sounds good," Chandler muttered in agreement.

"I don't eat meat," Phoebe interjected, "But right now, even **I** would be tempted by a big 'ol cheeseburger with everything on it!"

"How about, once we get out of here, and get cleaned up and rested… how about we all go out together?" Chandler suggested. "You know, go to a nice restaurant and just make pigs of ourselves!"

"Sounds good to me!" Joey exclaimed, and Phoebe nodded along.

"Me too," she added.

"I'm in," Monica said as she semi-raised her hand.

"You know where we should go?" Joey asked. "We should go to that place that has that mountain high fudge cake! Man, that's a meal in itself-"

"Sshh, wait," Chandler announced in a hushed tone, waving his hands furiously, yet briefly. "Do you hear that?" he asked in a whisper, and everyone held their breath as they listened intently.

After several moments, Joey asked, "What is it we're listening for?"

"Ssshhh!" Chandler hissed again, helping Monica off his lap and standing; he wobbled slightly since his legs had fallen asleep yet again.

"There!" he whispered harshly when he heard the noise again. "Did you hear it?" he asked, and everyone nodded.

"Maybe it's Ursula," Monica whispered. "Maybe she's come back with friends, to kill us."

"If she was going to kill us, she would've done it before now, while she was still here," Chandler countered.

"Maybe she is 'still here'," Monica then offered worriedly. "Maybe she never left! Maybe she was waiting for her friends to show up!"

Chandler could hear the panic in her voice. "Calm down," he whispered consolingly, touching her back gently. "I will protect you with my last breath, should anything happen."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is," she returned sarcastically. "But thanks."

When the door latch clicked, they all jumped at the sound, all watching, barely breathing, as they waited to see who would enter.

*

--"Ok," the sergeant whispered, "Eyes and ears open, ladies and gentlemen. It's showtime."

At the ready, the first officer in the group slowly pushed the door open with his leg, his gun cocked, his fellow officers behind him, ready to provide backup.

Precisely, sharply, the policeman jumped past the door and into the room, his gun drawn as his eyes darted about the room, assessing quickly the situation.

"Oh my God!" Monica announced, "It's the police!"

At the sound of her voice came several other officers, all with guns at the ready, only to find the four individuals locked behind bars, excitedly hugging.

"You have no idea how happy we are to see you!" Monica exclaimed, and that started an avalanche of comments by the undeserving prisoners, about what happened, about who was responsible…

It was more noise than anything discernible, and the sergeant finally had to call out loudly to get their attention.

"We'll have time for what happened later," he informed. "First off, I need all of you to stand away from one another, and place your hands on your heads."

Chandler stared back incredulously. "But, we're the **victims**!"

"It's procedure, sir," Sergeant Cumins explained. "It's for our protection."

They looked at one another before slowly complying, Phoebe's robe then falling open a little, exposing the fact that she was naked beneath it.

"Ma'am," one officer asked, "Are you without clothes under your robe?" Phoebe nodded. Sympathetically, the policewoman said, "You can bring one hand down to hold it closed."

"Patterson," the sergeant called out, "We need bolt cutters for this lock, and bring the civilians in for identification."

The four captives glanced at each other, curious.

"Don't worry," Sergeant Cumins told them, "We'll get this all sorted out as quickly as possible." They each thanked him with a nod.

Ross and Rachel entered the room slowly, gasping when they saw what it contained. There was their friend and sister, locked up like an animal or convict, inappropriately dressed and shivering in the cold.

"Ross! Rachel! Thank God!" Monica sighed. "I have never been so glad to see you in my **life**!"

Tears sprung to Rachel's eyes as she started to approach the cage, but after a couple steps, an officer stopped her.

"Not too close please," he said. "We haven't secured the subjects yet."

"They're **not** subjects," Ross snipped. "They are **people**! **That** is my sister, and **they**…" He trailed off as he looked closely at the blond. "Oh my God! That's the woman from outside! The one that drove off in the taxi!"

All four prisoners shook their heads. "Twin sister," Phoebe spoke up, and the other three in the cage nodded.

"Oh my God!" Rachel then exclaimed. "That's Dr Drake Ramoray!" she announced, pointing at Joey.

"You're a doctor?" Ross asked, but Joey shook his head.

"No," he explained, "I just play one on TV. On Days Of Our Lives."

"Joey Tribbiani!" Rachel said excitedly, forgetting for a moment, the situation her best friend was in.

Just then an officer entered with the bolt cutters.

"Ok," the sergeant ordered, "Everyone back up and let the man work."

The padlock was off in seconds, freeing the captives from their hours-long ordeal.

*

--They separated the foursome during questioning, and asked Ross and Rachel to go on home, that they would see to it that Monica got home safely. 

Shortly after questioning began, the call came in that Kyle Brock, while attempting to flee the scene at his house, was shot dead in a neighbors yard. Ursula was found tied to a chair in his livingroom, and was at the police station being interrogated.

--Every question answered twice, they were all free to leave, knowing that they would probably be receiving calls in the weeks to come, if more information of clarification was needed.

The house being a crime scene, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe were asked to find lodgings elsewhere, till the investigation was over. Monica wanted to help by offering them her and Rachel's apartment, but Chandler refused with a grateful smile.

"I'll just put us up in a hotel," he told her. "Don't worry about that at all," he added.

Escorted by officers, Phoebe and Joey went to their rooms to gather a few belongings, leaving Chandler and Monica alone for a moment.

"Well, I guess," Chandler offered awkwardly, "All's well that ends well, huh?"

"Yeah," Monica returned with a smile. "I sure won't forget **this** night anytime soon, **believe** me."

"Oh, I believe you," he chuckled. "Listen," he added after a moment, "I want you to know something. I really like you. I mean, **really** like you, but, I think maybe, we should spend some time apart, at least for a little while."

"I think," he continued, "That it would be better, in the long run, if there **is** to be a 'long run', that is. We will always wonder," he explained with a sigh, "If **this**- if these feelings, were because of what happened, the adrenalin rush and all, or because of something real, and true, ya'know?"

She slowly nodded, admitting, "I was having similar thoughts."

"You were?" he asked, and again she nodded. "So, um," he stammered, kicking at the ground, "Ya'know, we can still do that dinner thing, with Pheebs and Joey, but then, after that…"

"After **that**," Monica picked up the sentence when he trailed off, "We should take some time to determine what are feelings are."

"Exactly," he agreed, exhaling sharply. "I'm so glad we're on the same page with this. After the night you've had, the last thing I wanted to do was upset you."

"I know how you feel," she told him. "I, too have something I want to say- ask, and I was- I **am**, worried, about saying- asking, it."

"You can ask me anything," he assured her, and took her hand gently in his.

"I don't know how to say this, without sounding horrible, but, were you still planning on buying me, you know, the restaurant?"

He smiled, squeezing her hand before bringing it to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "Yes, I am still planning to do that for you."

Smiling appreciatively, she said, "Thank you. Not only for the restaurant, or for the way you put me at ease about asking, but thank you for your chivalry tonight."

"You're welcome," he accepted her praise kindly. "And, there something else I want you to know."

"What's that?" she asked.

"I would have given you the restaurant, even if you had turned my proposal down," he confided. "I just didn't know how else to get your attention."

"Well," she laughed, "You certainly got my attention, that's for sure. And," she added, "As long as we're being honest… I would have gone home with you, even if you **hadn't** offered me the restaurant."

His grin widened, and he leaned forward as he kissed her cheek. "We'll talk soon," he promised her, and she nodded before turning to walk away.

He watched discreetly as she climbed into an unmarked police car and was driven from his property, away from his sight.

**TO BE CONTINUED**…

Ok, another chapter on this one, is what I'm thinking. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through this story, and who have reviewed. You're all awesome!

So, please review, and remember… the Hokey Pokey **is** what it's all about!

MTLBYAKY


	19. 19

The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

**Chapter Nineteen**

*******************

**Six Months Later**

--Monica headed into the kitchen, clipboard in hand, inspecting the final produce delivery as the grand opening of her restaurant neared.

**Her** restaurant. She liked how that sounded, a ghost of a smile on her face as she checked off each of the items she'd ordered. Her dreams were coming true, and it was all because of one man. A man she hadn't seen in months. A man she'd only seen three times, since that strange, frightening, wonderful night.

The first time she saw him again, after the incident, was less than twenty-four hours later. True to their word, the four who shared the cage within the dungeon got together, at **the** fanciest and most expensive restaurant in all of New York, to share a meal and make pigs of themselves.

And they did. They ate as much as they dared to, telling jokes and laughing, talking and getting to know each other outside the stressful situation they had shared. Briefly, the subject of Ursula came up, all wondering why she did it, and what would eventually happen to her.

Within hours, the meal done and the check paid by Chandler, they said their goodbyes, nothing more than lingering glances and a slow drawn out hug any indication of feelings shared.

"I'll call you," he promised her in a whisper, and she smiled as she nodded.

The next time she saw him was a few weeks later. They got together, with lawyers and a real estate agent, to discuss the purchasing of a restaurant. Again, there were glances that spoke volumes, the pleasant tension between them bringing on slight nervous smiles, but no direct mention of anything besides the promise of contact again soon.

The last time she saw him was when the deal for the restaurant was finalized. He'd shown up, signed papers, handed over a cashier's check, then signed the restaurant over to Monica. In a moment alone, she thanked him again for his generosity, and wrapped her arms around him; her whole body responded to his touch.

While in his arms, he whispered, "Monica, I want you to focus on your restaurant. Focus on your dream. Don't think about me and you, or what happened that night. Don't dwell on feelings you have for me, or what we could have or still could become. Just, enjoy your dream. Savor it, and make it everything you've ever wanted."

"What I want," she whispered back, "Is to share this with you."

He pulled back, and cupped her face in his hand. "This isn't goodbye, Monica. I **will** be back, but, for right now, I need you to forget about me."

"That's not possible," she returned, and he smiled.

"Good," he whispered, then pulled her back into his embrace. "I don't want anything interfering with this experience," he explained. "I don't want new love dividing your attention, taking away from your dream, and I don't want focus on your dream taking your attention away from **us**."

"I understand what you're saying," she told him softly, "But…"

"But, what?" he asked.

Holding him tighter, she said, "I don't think I can let go of you right now, so you'll have to push me away."

He kissed her hair, cradling her head in his hand as he held her for a few moments longer, than he gently took her shoulders and pushed away from her.

"This isn't goodbye," he reminded her. "Just, see you later."

She smiled as she waved only slightly, a lone tear trickling down her cheek, watching as he turned and walked away.

That was months ago, and except for the dozen red roses and a card of congratulations sent to her apartment shortly after the date of the grand opening was announced, she hadn't heard from him or seen him at all. She thought about contacting him, but she knew he would stay true to his word. He was waiting for the right time, and while she didn't know when that would be, she had no doubt at all that it **would be**.

***

--Opening night couldn't have been more perfect. The diningroom crew gave flawless service, the kitchen crew fit into Monica's style of cheffing and organization to a T, and the only comments from the guests were favorable.

She had never been so tired in all her life, but the thrill of her extremely successful opening made it all worth while.

After the last of the guests paid, expressing their approval over the dinner and service before wandering languidly out the door, sated and happy, after the door was locked and the closed signed turned into place… 

After the crew completed break-down and cleanup, preparing and organizing the restaurant for the following day's business, after the cash drawer was tallied and prepared for bank deposit and all met with Monica's approval… 

After all the employees left for the night, saying their goodbyes as they walked out into the cold New York night, it was only then that Monica finally stole a moment to sit down, for the first time since her night began.

Sighing, she kicked off her shoes, her feet pounding in complaint of the long night and lack of sympathy, but still she smiled.

'**My** restaurant,' she thought to herself, looking around the dimly lit diningroom. 'The only thing that would make this all **more** perfect…'

As soon as the thought hit her mind, like Soap Opera timing, she heard a light rapping on the locked front door. She spun around, startled, squinting to make out the shadowy figure that stood separated from her by a simple glass door. Whoever it was waved, the dusky light from the streetlamps behind the person made that much discernible.

Slowly, she stepped towards the door, still struggling to see a face, or some distinguishing feature. Only when she was a couple feet away, did she realize who was standing there, smiling.

Moving faster, she approached the door, her eyes finding and locking with his as she strained to open the door by touch alone.

Finally without a barrier, she threw herself into his arms, breathing his name, emotionally overwhelmed.

"I'm so glad you're here," she whispered, and he tightened his grip on her.

"So am I," he returned softly, waiting for a moment before asking, "Can I come in?"

She pulled back, smiling in apology. "Of course!" Once he was inside, she locked the door again. "I wish you could've seen," she told him excitedly. "Tonight was amazing!"

His smile grew wider. "I did see."

"You were here?" she asked, and he nodded. "Why didn't you come back to the kitchen and say hello?"

"I didn't want to interfere with your opening night," was his excuse.

"You wouldn't have been interfering!" she insisted, but he shook his head in response.

"If I had announced myself, and gone back to see you, your mind would've been on **that**, and not on your restaurant. I wanted tonight to be all about you and your dream."

With a smile, she nodded appreciatively, adding a moment later, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," he admitted easily. "I've thought about you **so** much. Dreamed about you… They were good dreams," he added with a grin.

"Please don't say this is another 'see you later'," she pleaded, and he took a step forward. 

"I want to see you now, later, and forever," he told her softly. "That is, if you still feel something for me."

She felt her heart racing faster, so close to him now, finally, that she could feel his warmth radiating off him.

"Why do I always feel like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush when I'm in your presence?"

"I don't know," he whispered, "But, if it helps, I feel like a nervous schoolboy every time I'm near you."

"You, nervous?" she asked, disbelieving. "You don't seem very nervous to me."

Wordlessly, he took another step, taking her hand in his and placing it over his heart. It raced, just like hers, and following his example, she repeated the gesture, taking his hand and placing it over her heart.

"Are you done here?" he asked. "Are you ready to lock up?"

Nodding, she asked, "Where are we going?" She felt her breath catch as he closed the gap between them, his fingers raking into her hair as he leaned in.

Lips brushed gently, evolving into a soft kiss, her head spinning as heat spread to every ounce of her being.

"I have this feeling," she breathed as his lips moved to caress her neck, "That this perfect night is about to become even **more** perfect."

With a sigh of contentment, he whispered, "You deserve nothing less."

THE END 

Ok, folks, that's it! How did we like it? Inquiring minds wanna know! Namely, me! So, please leave a review and let me know what'cha thought of it, k?

Pretty please? With sugar on top? With cherries and whipped cream on top? With hot fudge and Matthew Perry on-?

No, wait, that's something else.

Anyway, please review! And MTLBYAKY


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